


The Purpose of a Rose

by the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Flashbacks, Marauders, Marauders' Era, Slow Romance, The Golden Trio, The Golden Trio Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf/pseuds/the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf
Summary: "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?""To look nice?""To woo Lily?""To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?""Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"***Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...





	1. A Bad Beginning

**1981**

Mrs Black sighed heavily as she looked out onto the street below her flat. The ordinary people of London bustled to and fro, their minds on other, more important things than the strange woman watching them from above. Mrs Black, too, found herself focusing on more important things than the ant-sized Muggles scurrying below her. She was most preoccupied with the question of where her husband could possibly be, and why he had snuck out in the middle of the night, without leaving behind so much as a note.

Suddenly, the water running over her hands switched straight from freezing cold to scalding hot, causing her to yelp and turning her attention back to the situation at hand. The soap had long since been washed off, and so Mrs Black picked up the hand towel, turning her attention back to her son. He was sat quietly in his highchair, watching her curiously with his big, grey eyes, just like his father’s. Mrs Black smiled, pushing her troubling thoughts to the back of her mind, where they belonged.

“Now, Robin,” she said with forced cheer, putting the hand towel aside and lifting her little boy into her arms. “What are we going to do today?”

Robin stared back blankly – he hadn’t quite grasped the mechanics of language yet, although he was trying. A few weeks ago, he had managed the phrase ‘Pada’, which his father had insisted was directed at him – Mrs Black wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like to spoil her husband’s fun. Since then, no further developments had been made.

“What about the park?” Mrs Black suggested, smiling brightly. “Or maybe we could go and visit Aunty Molly and Uncle Arthur?”

Robin said nothing, but began sucking his thumb.

“Hey, hey, hey,” muttered Mrs Black, removing his thumb from his mouth and replacing it with a dummy that she kept in her jacket pocket at all times. “That’s not hygienic.”

She sighed again and made her way back to the kitchen sink, looking down onto the street once more. There was no sign of her husband – just an empty parking space where his motorbike should have been.

“Well, it’s no use sitting around here all day, is it?” she said breezily, bouncing her son up and down on her hip, which made him giggle. He placed his small hand on her cheek, which she took as his assent. “Excellent, glad you agree. Molly and Arthur it is.”

It didn’t take long for Mrs Black to zip her son into his winter coat, slip on his shoes, and get herself ready before they were out of the door. A small part of her felt guilty as she was locking the flat up – what if her husband came back whilst they were gone? – but she quickly pushed the guilt aside. After all, he was the one who had neglected to leave even a note to explain his disappearance.

Only once the two of them were outside did Mrs Black have to consider how exactly she was going to get herself and her son to Devon. She had been pestering her husband for over a year to trade in his motorbike for a proper car, but he remained unmoved. He insisted that public transportation in London was just fine.

“Besides,” he had added just the other week, when Mrs Black had brought the issue up yet again, “it’s not like we’re going anywhere for the time being – too dangerous.”

“But what if we need to get away from here?” retorted Mrs Black in a hushed voice, on the off chance that anyone was listening through the walls. “What if they find us?”

Her husband rolled his eyes. “Then we use the Floo Network or the Knight Bus. I don’t know, Rose, can’t you just let it go for once?”

And that was the end of that. There was no point arguing with her husband once he got like that, Mrs Black knew – you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, as her father used to say. Still, Mrs Black couldn’t help but fret when she was left to her thoughts. Surely they had traces on the Floo Network? Besides, they didn’t even have a fireplace at the flat, and she couldn’t see the Knight Bus as being a particularly inconspicuous thing. In her darkest moods, Mrs Black couldn’t help but wonder if her husband’s over-confidence in his own abilities wasn’t going to get them all killed.

However, in that particular moment, it seemed that he had answered her question – the Knight Bus was the easiest way to get to her sister’s house – or, at least, to Ottery St. Catchpole, from which it was a short walk to the Burrow. Reaching into her coat pocket, Mrs Black retrieved her wand, and with great effort, managed to hold out her wand arm without being seen by any Muggles. A second later, a violently purple triple-decker bus came hurtling around the corner of the street, landing with a bang in front of Mrs Black.

“All aboard…” shouted the conductor, and Mrs Black dutifully climbed on, handing over eleven sickles.

“Thirteen’ll get you a copy of the  _Prophet_ ,” the conductor said airily, clearly hoping for more sales. Mrs Black shook her head, murmuring a polite thank you – reading whilst on the move made her incredibly motion sick.

“Where you off to?”

“Ottery St Catchpole, please.”

The conductor nodded. “Take a seat. There in five minutes.”

After a quick glance over the available seats, Mrs Black chose a rather stable-looking armchair; as none of the seats were bolted down, and the bus itself moved at remarkable speeds, stability was incredibly important. Just looking around, Mrs Black couldn’t help but notice that the Knight Bus was a lot emptier than the last time she had used it. She wasn’t surprised – after the Death Eaters had infiltrated the Ministry, anything Muggle related had become incredibly taboo. Even such simple use of Muggle technology was seen as blood treachery.

Mrs Black swallowed hard, closing her eyes to the scenery that was blurring by so fast it was virtually unrecognisable - but it wasn’t just the movement of the bus that was making her stomach churn. She was taking an unbelievable risk, she realised suddenly. What if the staff were reporting back to the ministry? She hadn’t given her name, but with her flaming red hair, she was fairly recognisable. Just being on the bus was not only threatening her own safety, but the safety of her son as well. She should have stayed at the flat. Was she now leading the ministry right to Mr and Mrs Weasley?

Breathing deeply, Mrs Black tried to calm her nerves. She was safer with her sister than she was alone, that was for certain. Mrs Weasley would completely understand, and once her husband had returned, she could go home.

The bus ground to a halt suddenly, jolting Mrs Black out of her reverie. Her eyes flew open to see the little village of Ottery St. Catchpole outside of the window.  _Was that already five minutes?_  She looked down to see that Robin had dozed off, dummy still in his mouth, his little head resting on her shoulder. The conductor caught her eye.

“Ottery St. Catchpole.”

With as much courage as she could muster, Mrs Black stood. It took all her strength to pretend as though her knees hadn’t turned to jelly as she carried her son off of the bus onto the high street. No sooner had her feet hit the pavement than the bus careered off again, closing in on its next destination.

It was colder out of the city, and she instinctively pulled her son closer towards her, watching as her breath fogged on the crisp November air. Mrs Black had visited the Burrow so many times that she knew the route there off by heart, and her desire to get Robin out of the cold spurred her on, into the surrounding woods. The Burrow, she knew, was a ten-minute amble westward.

The walk to the Burrow was usually an enjoyable one; Mrs Black’s teenage years had been filled with traipsing the familiar footpath with her friends, taking in the Devonshire countryside. Although many of the plants that dotted the woods in the summer had now died, there was still something otherworldly to the scenery, even in the early morning chill of autumn. However, today Mrs Black found herself unable to appreciate even the slightest bit of it, looking over her shoulder as she was, her breath hitching in her throat every time she heard the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves. Ever since she had woken up that morning to find her bed empty, she had been unable to shake an impending sense of doom.

Never had Mrs Black been more relieved to see the edge of the forest open out to reveal the comforting sight of the Burrow. It was an oddly shaped building, with many different floors, all laid out in a terribly higgledy-piggledy fashion, but to the Weasley family, it was home. Mrs Black let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding as she crossed the threshold of the garden and knocked on the front door.

There was a rustle from inside of the kitchen, and the harsh whispers of Mrs Weasley telling her children to go upstairs. Even though it was unlikely that the Death Eaters were going to literally knock on her door, Mrs Black’s sister, like everyone, wasn’t going to take the risk.

There was the sound of footsteps making their way to the door. “Who is it?” came a muffled voice from the other side. “I warn you, I’m armed.”

“Molly, it’s me, Rose – I have Robin with me.”

“Rose?” There was a short pause, which Mrs Black assumed Mrs Weasley was using to look through the peephole. “What was the name of my old pink and white rabbit toy?”

Mrs Black grinned at the question. “Mr Snuffles. Which, incidentally, is my nickname for my husband, though to this day, you still don’t understand why.”

There was the noise of something being unbolted, and the door flew open to reveal Mrs Weasley, standing with hands on her hips, frowning. She was a plump woman, with a fierce red hair, but her brown eyes were kind. She and Mrs Black shared a likeness, although Mrs Weasley was ten years older.

“One day you’re going to have to explain that to me,” she said tersely, standing aside to let her sister and nephew through. Mrs Black was grateful for the warmth that immediately washed over her – Robin’s nose had turned a bright pink from the wind. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you send an owl?”

Mrs Black collapsed onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table, suddenly exhausted. “I’m sorry, Molly, but I didn’t know what else to do. Sirius has gone missing.”

“Missing?” Mrs Weasley, who had been fiddling around with the bolt on the door, suddenly stopped to look at her sister. “What do you mean missing?”

“As in, he’s vanished. I woke up this morning and he wasn’t there.”

Mrs Weasley blinked. “Well, where is he?”

Mrs Black resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead began taking off Robin’s coat. “If I knew that, there wouldn’t be a problem, would there?”

“Is it – Death Eaters?”

The words seemed to hit Mrs Black like a physical blow, but she shook her head. “I don’t think so. No Dark Mark. And besides – what’s the point in stealing Sirius away just to murder him? If it was Death Eaters, they would have killed us all.”

Mrs Weasley bit her lip. “Not even to torture him for information?”

“Again, why leave Robin and I? Give me the chance to warn the Order? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Mrs Weasley seemed to agree, because her whole demeanour suddenly relaxed, and she began muttering about how Mrs Black must have caught her death of cold and how they must both have a cup of tea to calm their nerves. Whilst her sister was fussing over the teapot, Mrs Black deposited the still quite sleepy Robin into her nephew’s highchair and took off her own coat, hanging it up beside the door. Robin watched her through droopy eyelids.

It wasn’t until they were both seated again, warm mugs of tea in their hands, that they got back to the subject at hand.

“So, if it wasn’t the Death Eaters, what was it?” asked Mrs Weasley, concerned. “I mean, Sirius has always been reckless, but he isn’t stupid. To leave without telling you where he’s gone…”

She didn’t have to finish her sentence for Mrs Black to understand. Not only was it worrying – Mr Black’s disappearance was suspicious.

“I wondered if it was urgent Order business,” said Mrs Black, her voice hushed. Even though no one was around, she couldn’t help but feel strange discussing everything so openly. “A secret mission, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” her sister concurred, although she didn’t seem convinced. “You don’t think he’s…”

But before Mrs Weasley could finish her thought, whatever it might have been, the sound of crashing footsteps came drifting down the stairs. Two seconds later, Mrs Black’s twin nephews had bounded into the kitchen, wearing matching jumpers and matching grins. Their three older brothers weren’t far behind.

“Aunty Rosie!” shouted Bill and Charlie in unison, whilst the twins threw themselves onto her lap, each one scrambling for space. Percy didn’t seem as excited to see his aunt, and instead nestled himself into the crook of Mrs Weasley’s arm.

“Hello, you rotten lot!” said Mrs Black, enveloping Fred and George into a bone-crushing hug. “What are you lot doing here then? Why aren’t you at school?”

Bill and Charlie shared a quizzical look. “It’s a Sunday, Aunty Rose,” said Charlie.

“So it is,” said Mrs Black, glancing at her watch to confirm. “Goodness, it’s so easy to lose track of time… Where’s Arthur then?”

The tense look returned to Mrs Weasley’s face. “He’s at a meeting with Dumbledore – Ministry business.”

 _Order business._  Mrs Black understood, and it worried her mightily. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Dumbledore had personally asked to meet with Mr Weasley on the very same day that Mr Black had gone missing. Dumbledore was hardly ever seen these days, so it had to be important.  _James and Lily?_   _Or perhaps Remus…_ From the look on Mrs Weasley’s face, Mrs Black could tell she was thinking the same thing.

Mrs Black didn’t have much more time to think on it, however, as all the commotion of her nephews arriving had woken Robin. His whole face scrunched up at the disturbance, and he began to howl. The boys covered their ears. As if in some kind of chain reaction, two other cries could suddenly be heard from upstairs – Ron and Ginny, Mrs Weasley’s youngest. Mrs Weasley sighed.

“Well, I have to go sort that out – come on, Rose. If Robin’s tired, then he can borrow Ron’s crib. There’s no way that he’s going to go back to sleep now…”

“Thank you Moll…” Mrs Black gently eased the twins off her lap and bundled her crying son into her arms. He immediately quietened down, comforted by his mother, and began to nestle into her shoulder again. Mrs Weasley led the way upstairs, and Mrs Black followed on, trying not to think about her husband. Neither sister brought the subject up again, although both knew that it was plaguing the other.

In fact, the conversation didn’t come up again the whole day, although both women certainly had more to say about it. It seemed that every time either one of them tried to bring it up again, one of Mrs Weasley’s children would interrupt, or Robin would need feeding, and the opportunity was lost. The two women resigned themselves to wait until evening, when the children would be in bed and unable to listen in.

In the meantime, Mrs Black entertained herself the best she could by spending time with her nephews. She played a brutal game of wizard’s chess with Bill, which he ultimately one. She threw Quaffles for Charlie, who was practising his Quidditch, and read a bedtime story to Percy. She even chased Fred and George around the house in order to tire them out before they had to go to sleep. It wasn’t until dark, and the children were all in bed, that Mr Weasley returned home.

He looked exhausted, as though he had aged ten years in one day. Mrs Weasley immediately ran to him as soon as he entered the house, but stopped when she saw the look on his face. He shot her a weak smile before pulling out a chair from under the table and collapsing onto it. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose; it was only when he returned the glasses and opened his eyes did he notice his sister-in-law.

“Rose,” he said, suddenly alert, sitting up straight. “Thank goodness you’re here. Have you brought Robin with you?”

Mrs Black was startled by the intensity of his question. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “We’ll be going home soon – I just wanted to see if you knew anything about Sirius.”

“Sirius?” said Mr Weasley, his voice harsh.

“He’s missing,” said Mrs Black, her voice beginning to shake. Mr Weasley was scaring her slightly. “I thought you might know where –”

“You don’t know,” whispered Mr Weasley, interrupting her. He looked defeated, and he slumped, cradling his head in his hands. “You don’t know…”

“Know what, Arthur?” Mrs Weasley had moved into the chair next to her husband, and put a tentative hand onto his shoulder. Her voice was strained, and she too seemed worried by his demeanour.

He let out a sound, something between a sob and a sigh, before he sat up straight again. “About what happened last night.”

Every word had been dripping with pity and it made Mrs Black’s skin crawl. “What happened last night?” she asked quietly.

“Is this what Dumbledore wanted to talk to you about, my love?” said Mrs Weasley.

Mr Weasley was staring straight at Mrs Black, but for some reason she got the feeling that he wasn’t really seeing her. “Yes. Rose, I… Lily and James are dead.”

Mrs Black blinked. “Dead?”

It was as if the world suddenly stopped in its tracks. Every word was heavy with emphasis and emotion, but they sounded muffled as they entered Mrs Black’s brain. She was faintly aware that she hadn’t taken a breath in at least a minute, but for some reason, she couldn’t exactly remember how breathing was done.

“H-How?” said Mrs Black, struggling to form the question, her voice breaking.

“Their Secret Keeper betrayed them.”

Mrs Black’s head was swimming – she had to grip the arms of her chair to stop herself from falling. “Sirius.”

Mr Weasley bowed his head, acknowledging that she was right. An uncomfortable silence fell over the three of them, though Mrs Black barely noticed. Her husband’s face loomed into the back of her mind, so familiar, a face she had adored, and yet now so repulsive to her. The impish smile was now a leer, and the brooding eyes filled with malice.

“Rose…” said Mrs Weasley tentatively, but Mrs Black cut her off.

“What happened?”

Mr Weasley shared a worried glance with his wife before answering. “Sirius Black went to You-Know-Who last night and told him where the Potters were.”

Mrs Black inhaled sharply, but gestured that Mr Weasley should proceed. He did so, his voice filled with caution.

“You-Know-Who himself went to their cottage and – well –” He swallowed. “Murdered them both.”

Mrs Black thought back to the night before. Mr Black had been acting strangely, and had arrived home late, although she had thought very little of it at the time – the stress of the order had put considerable strain on their relationship. It was a rarity at this point for him to be home when he said he would be. If Mrs Black had known that at that very moment, her husband had been betraying two of their closest friends to the Dark Lord… She felt sick to her stomach at the thought.

“And Harry?”

Mrs Black was surprised at how collected she sounded, when inside her heart was tearing itself apart.

“Alive,” said Mr Weasley, relieved to have something positive to say. “For some reason, You-Know-Who couldn’t kill him – according to Dumbledore, the spell backfired, and You-Know-Who ended up killing himself.”

Mrs Weasley gasped. “So – You-Know-Who is – dead?”

“Yes,” said her husband. “And the war is over – the Death Eaters have disbanded and are being hunted down by a team from the Ministry and the Order as we speak, specifically Sirius. It’s the one silver-lining of this whole tragedy.”

Mrs Black knew she should be pleased. She knew that this meant her son would be able to grow up in a world where there weren’t murderous psychopaths on every street corner, just waiting to capture ‘blood traitors’ like themselves. That her husband, the actual traitor, would be locked up, safe behind bars, unable to hurt them. And yet, all she could think about at that moment was little baby Harry, orphaned at one year old, without a home to go back to.

“Where will he go now?” she asked, her voice barely audible. Thankfully, Mr Weasley could hear her.

“Dumbledore said to his Aunt and Uncle’s – the Dursleys? Means nothing to me, of course, but he said you would know…”

Mrs Black nodded. “Mrs Dursley is Lily’s sister – but why isn’t he coming to me? I am his godmother, after all.” She looked up, finally making eye contact with her brother-in-law. He looked awkward once again, running a finger around the inside of his collar, as though it was choking him slightly.

“Rose… there’s something I haven’t told you yet – the reason why Dumbledore wanted to speak to me, actually – but if I tell you, you have to promise me that you won’t panic.”

Mrs Black felt her whole body go icy cold, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Tell me.”

If Mr Weasley noticed that she hadn’t promised, he didn’t comment on it, though he shot her a wary look. “Harry isn’t being entrusted to your care, because there’s a firm chance that you won’t be here tomorrow.”

It was actually Mrs Weasley who reacted first. “What are you talking about, Arthur?” she said, the fear evident in her tone. Mr Weasley frowned; Mrs Black was distinctly reminded of the face the Healer at St. Mungo’s had pulled when breaking the news that her grandmother had passed away.

“Rose, the Ministry knows you’re married to Sirius – and of course the Order do, too. And although – and you must remember this – neither Molly or I, nor Dumbledore for that matter, believe you were the slightest bit involved in his betrayal, there are others who will inevitably think differently.”

For the first time since she had arrived at the burrow, Mrs Black was overcome with a sense of genuine terror. “You mean – you  _can’t_  mean –”

“I’m sorry Rose,” said Mr Weasley, tearing up slightly as he looked at his sister-in-law’s frightened eyes, “but the warrant for your arrest was issued this morning. They’ll be coming any minute now.”

It felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her world. Mrs Weasley let out a strangled sob and grabbed her sister’s hand, as though she would physically stop anyone who tried to take her away, but Mrs Black barely felt it. The feeling of unease that had hung over her all morning suddenly seemed to make sense.

“No, Arthur – she can’t go  _there_!”

Mr Weasley shook his head in a defeated manner. “I’m so sorry, Rose. Dumbledore’s doing everything he can to prepare a defence – you shouldn’t be there for more than a week, a month at most.”

No one had said the name, but it floated in the air between them, like some dense fog.  _Azkaban_. The worst place in the world. Even a week would be hell.

There was only one thing on Mrs Black’s mind, however. “Robin?”

“We’ll take care of him,” said Mrs Weasley immediately, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t you worry about that.”

“That’s why I was so pleased you were already here,” added Mr Weasley. “The Ministry have already searched your house. If they’d got Robin first, goodness knows where he might have ended up.”

Some kind of steely resolution was falling over Mrs Black now, and it was with resignation that she turned to her sister. “I’m afraid I’ve left all of his clothes and things at the flat, so we can assume they’ve been confiscated. You’ll have to buy new ones, but I’ll reimburse you when I get out.”

“You don’t have to worry about that…” said Mrs Weasley weakly, but her sister was no longer listening. She had stood abruptly, walking towards the kitchen window, and looking out onto the Weasley’s back garden.

“How long did you say I have, Arthur?” asked Mrs Black.

“A few minutes, I would think.”

Mrs Black pursed her lips as she watched the shadowy figures of the Ministry Officials, who had just apparated at the end of the garden, make their way up the path towards her. “I’m afraid that a few seconds might be more accurate.”

There was a rough knock at the door – all three of them jumped, even though they knew it was coming.

“It’s the Ministry – open up!”

There was a short pause, in which none of them moved towards the door. Only the second knock shocked Mrs Weasley into action, and she ran to answer.

“Who is it?” she said shakily, trying to be brave.

“Aurors Moody and Shacklebolt,” came a gruff voice. “We’re searching for the fugitive Rose Black, and we would very much appreciate it if you would open the ruddy door.”

The tension in the room started to lift slightly – Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were both Order members. They were more likely to look kindly upon Mrs Black than others from the Ministry. Mrs Weasley quickly unbolted the door; almost as soon as she had, Moody and Shacklebolt had shouldered themselves inside.

Alastor Moody was a ferocious looking man, with matted hair and a ravaged face from too many duels. One of his legs was missing, so there was a familiar clunking sound as he made his way across the wooden kitchen floor. Most noticeable, however, was his magical eye, spinning around in its socket, electric blue and intense. Despite his rather grim outer appearance, he was a close friend of Dumbledore’s, an honour that evaded most, and was a key member of the Order since its inception.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, on the other hand, was tall and handsome, with keen brown eyes and an inscrutable gaze. He was more composed than his counterpart, but no less intimidating when it came down to it. Even though Mrs Black had once considered these men her friends, she now felt a definite sense of dread overcome her; she had seen these two men break some of the toughest Death Eaters, and was nervous to be on the wrong side of them.

“Mrs Weasley,” said Shacklebolt politely, inclining his head. The formality of his tone did not escape Mrs Black, or the Weasleys, it seemed. Mr Weasley stood up, coming to stand next to his wife, as though protecting her.

Moody, on the other hand, didn’t seem interested in the Weasleys at all, having spotted Mrs Black in the corner of the room. What with his magical eye, Mrs Black wasn’t certain that he hadn’t already seen her from outside.

“Rose Black,” he growled. His voice was harsh and to the point. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.”

“Alastor –” said Mrs Weasley, rather half-heartedly, as though she knew it were pointless to ask, “do you really need to arrest her? She really had nothing to do with the plot –”

“Mrs Weasley, we understand that you’re upset,” interrupted Shacklebolt, “and our interactions through the order means that we are allowing you some leniency in this matter, but I must warn you that if you try to obstruct our official Ministry business here, we will be forced to arrest both you and your husband on the grounds of harbouring a fugitive.”

Mrs Weasley quailed under his stare, the words dying in her mouth. She looked to Mrs Black for guidance, but the younger sister just shook her head. The fewer who had to go to Azkaban, the better.

“I’m ready to go,” said Mrs Black, her voice steady, although her heart was pounding at a mile a minute. “Please, leave my sister be. She’s only trying to help.”

Moody nodded tersely, moving to her side and directing his wand at her chest. “Rose Eleanor Black, I am arresting you on suspicion of conspiring to murder Lily and James Potter on the thirty-first of October with your husband, Sirius Orion Black, and for suspected complicity with the Death Eaters and Voldemort.”

Everyone but Moody flinched at the name.

“Anything you say from this point on can be held against you as evidence in court. We will provide you with a lawyer upon your arrival to Azkaban, unless you are imprisoned without trial under the Dangerous Magical Criminals Act of 1866, which will only occur if there is significant evidence that a trial is deemed unnecessary. I will now confiscate your wand, which will be returned to you as and when you are released.”

He held out his hand expectantly. Mrs Black slowly reached into her pocket and retrieved her wand, placing it into his open palm. He swiftly stowed it away into his coat pocket, ignoring the small sniffles coming from Mrs Weasley. Mrs Black wanted to leave with her head held high, but the truth was that she followed Moody rather meekly as he led her out into the garden – the apprehension in the bottom of her stomach was increasing.

As they reached the doorway, however, a small cry made its way down the stairs – Robin. All of Mrs Black’s resolve suddenly crumbled, and she instinctively ran towards the staircase. She  _couldn’t_  leave her son for even a week, she just  _couldn’t_. Before she could get even two steps in the right direction, two strong hands – Shacklebolt’s hands – had grabbed her wrists.

“Please,” she whimpered as the auror dragged her back towards the garden. “He’s my son. I can’t leave my son.”

For the first time, Moody looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t relent. “The sooner you’re in Azkaban, the sooner we can prove you’re innocent,” he mumbled, chivvying her on with the point of his wand. Mr and Mrs Weasley stood in the doorway, watching as Mrs Black was dragged forcibly away from their home.

“We’ll take care of Robin!” Mrs Weasley called after her, her voice cracking. “We promise!”

It wasn’t enough, but it was all that she could say. Mrs Black clung onto the words, closing her eyes and focusing on them instead of the steel grip of Shacklebolt around her wrist, and the strange sensation of all her guts being wrung inside out as she was apparated away.

When she opened her eyes again, Mrs Black was on a desolate island, facing a large stone fortress that seemed to ooze despair. The sea surrounding her, which was black and foaming, stretched out for miles onto the horizon. She could feel sea spray hitting her face, but she didn’t mind – she knew that this might be the last breath of fresh air she would get for a month.  _Perhaps the last ever_.

Mrs Black shook her head violently at the thought – the Dementors must already be beginning to affect her. She repeated to herself that Dumbledore was going to get her out, using it as a kind of mantra. Moody was leading her towards the prison now, and she followed on, every step causing her more and more anxiety. She noticed that Shacklebolt had let go of her wrists once they had arrived – she supposed that meant that running away at this point was futile. Without her wand, apparition was impossible, and the only other option was to try to swim.

Mrs Black almost fainted when she caught her first glance of a Dementor. Its billowing black cloak was pulled back just enough to reveal a horrifying, decaying hand. The closer the three of them came towards it, the colder Mrs Black felt. Dark thoughts began running through her mind, mostly surrounding her husband, and poor James and Lily.

Shacklebolt coughed slightly, sharing a meaningful look with Moody. The older man nodded, and Shacklebolt promptly produced his wand. “ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” he whispered.

A wispy blue Lynx leapt out of the tip of his wand and began prowling in front of them. The Dementor was deterred, and floated back into the shadows, though it kept facing them as they entered the building. Mrs Black shuddered.

“You’ll need to get used to them pretty quickly,” muttered Moody. Mrs Black knew he was trying to help, but he really wasn’t succeeding. She could see more Dementors drifting through the corridors of cells, making horrible rattling sounds with each breath.

Moody and Shacklebolt led Mrs Black over to a room on the left – there was a faint blue light emanating from under the door. Moody knocked.

“Purvis? It’s Moody. We’ve got Black.”

A small peep hole opened to reveal two suspicious eyes. “Black? He was dropped off twenty minutes ago – he’s in cell 8C.”

“The other Black,” Shacklebolt clarified, pushing Mrs Black gently towards the door. The eyes squinted at her, before widening in recognition.

“Ah. The missus – we’ve been expecting you.”

The eyes disappeared for a moment, replaced by a hand clasping a small slip of paper. Mrs Black could just about read the type – it said,  _Rose Eleanor Black, née Prewett – HIGH SECURITY RISK – Cell 8B_.

Moody saw that Mrs Black was looking, and quickly snatched the paper away, giving it a brief glance over before shoving it into his pocket.

“Really Purvis?” he asked. “The room next door?”

Mrs Black couldn’t see Purvis’ body to be sure, but the way that his eyes bobbed up and down suggested he might have shrugged. “Orders from Crouch himself. Besides, Black Number One doesn’t know she’s going to be next door – if you want, obliviate this one. Then neither will know.”

Mrs Black felt a lump in her throat at the callousness of this man – was this the type of treatment she could expect to receive from now on? Moody grunted in response, and pulled Mrs Black swiftly away. Once they were out of earshot, Mrs Black heard him grumbling to himself about how obliviating prisoners should be a last resort.

The other inmates watched as they passed by – some jeering, others howling with despair – but Mrs Black studiously ignored them. What she found worse than the desperate calling out, however, were the prisoners who stayed silent. They had been broken by the Dementors into empty shells.

Mrs Black quickly lost track of where they were going, or how many flights of stairs they had climbed. She only realised they had arrived in the right place when Moody stopped abruptly in front of an empty cell. She looked up – 8B had been carved in the brick above the doorway. She couldn’t help but gaze down the hall, and sure enough, the cell just a little bit ahead was 8C.

_Sirius._

Moody opened the door, and Mrs Black stepped inside. It was grim, but she was expecting as such. A small wooden plank for a bed, and a bucket that she didn’t like to ask about. As soon as the door shut, she would be completely isolated – the walls were so thick, she doubted anything could be heard through them.

“Now, listen here,” growled Moody, his face fierce. “If you try and talk to Black in any way before your trial, you’ll be in here for the rest of your life.”

Mrs Black didn’t say anything, but she did nod. Moody huffed, before shutting the door behind him. Then, silence.

Alone at last, Mrs Black inched away from the wall to her left. Moody hadn’t needed to warn her about speaking to her husband – Mrs Black was going to spend her time in this cell pretending that he didn’t exist.

 

*****Author's Note*****

**If you like my writing, and want me to write about a specific ship or a short drabble, please check out my Tumblr page:[loony-loopy-luna.tumblr.com/](https://loony-loopy-luna.tumblr.com/)**

**Hope I see some of you there!**

**Lots of Love,**

**LoonyLoopyLuna xxx**

 

 

 

 


	2. Holiday Post

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1973**

“Rose!”

Rose groaned, and rolled over in her bed.  _Just five more minutes_ …

“Rose!”

If she kept quiet, maybe her father would forget what he was doing and leave her alone to dream…

“ROSE!”

She should have known that wasn’t going to happen. Sighing, Rose sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. She fumbled around the top of her bedside table for a few moments before finding her glasses and putting them on. They were round, and made her brown eyes look huge, like an owl.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up!”

The sunlight was streaming through the curtains, illuminating Rose’s messy but clean room. Rose supposed it was about time she got up and dressed. It wasn’t that she hated getting up – she just greatly despised being  _woken_  up. She liked to wake naturally, without any of her siblings or her father interfering.

It only took her a few minutes to get dressed, slipping on a pair of flared jeans and a funky sweater. She looked in the mirror and wondered whether she should curl her hair, but decided it would take too much time considering that her father was waiting for her. Ruffling her red hair slightly, Rose wandered into the bathroom. Normally she would have a shower, but again she didn’t think she had enough time, so instead she just went about her normal every day ablutions.

It was a good twenty minutes after her father’s first call when Rose finally made it downstairs to the kitchen, but Mr Prewett didn’t seem to mind. He was sat at the kitchen table, terribly absorbed in that morning’s copy of the  _Prophet_ , and he barely noticed his daughter had arrived until she plonked down into the seat next to him.

“Morning dad.”

Mr Prewett picked up four letters from the table and waved them in Rose’s general direction. “Letters for you,” he said, not looking up from his newspaper.

Rose snatched them from his hand and eagerly flipped through the envelopes; the first was from Lily, in her neat cursive; the second, Severus’ messy scrawl; the third was easily recognisable as Hogwarts; and the fourth –

“Yes!” she squealed, without a thought for her father, who was just lifting his mug of tea to his lips. He jumped at the sound, and spilt a good quarter of his tea onto his shirt.

“Merlin’s beard, Rose!” he grumbled, putting down his mug and retrieving his wand from his pocket. A quick tap and the stain disappeared – sadly, the frown on Mr Prewett’s face did not. “What’s the number one rule in this house?”

Rose sighed, resisting the urge to role her eyes. “No screaming, I know… But dad, it’s important!”

“Oh really?” He quirked an eyebrow. “And why would that be?”

Rose blushed immediately, her petite, round face turning a strange maroon colour. She had not thought her comment through. “Oh, no reason,” she murmured, quickly standing and shuffling into the living room. Her father gave her a strange look as she left, but didn’t follow up on it. He’d had enough experience with Molly, Fabian and Gideon to know that not every incident of teenage behaviour was worth investigating.

Alone in the living room, and aware that it would take Mr Prewett at least another half an hour to finish his newspaper, Rose settled into her favourite armchair, the one closest to the window. Outside she could see the rambling extent of their garden, and beyond that the forest where she used to play robbers and thieves with the twins. However, the view barely registered with her that morning, her mind completely absorbed with the letters now resting on her lap.

 _Which to open first?_  Obviously the last intrigued her the most, but she didn’t want to completely forget about Lily and Severus, and she supposed the Hogwarts letter would be of some importance. Grudgingly, she set the last letter aside and instead picked up the one from Lily. It was relatively short for the Gryffindor, but Rose was sure it would be much longer than the others. Readjusting in her seat so that she was comfortable, Rose leant back and began to read:

 

_Dear Rose,_

_I’m so glad to hear that you had fun at your sister’s, and that Charlie is as cute as everyone suspected he would be! I wish my older sister was half as fun as Molly sounds. Petunia won’t come anywhere near me, as usual, for fear of being ‘cursed’, I assume. If it wasn’t for mum and dad, I honestly wouldn’t come back home at all._

_On the subject of parents, how is your dad? You know, I think he’s absolutely hilarious, and definitely underappreciated by you! Is his work at the Ministry going well? I’ve been following his trial in the Prophet, of course, and it’s fascinating._

_I hate to change the subject so abruptly, but I have something I really need to get off my chest, and you’re the only person I could think of to write to. I understand that you might not want to help, but I though you just might…_

_Rose, I am really worried about Severus. I know you say that it’s just ‘fitting in’, but his attitudes towards muggles are getting scary now. Perhaps it’s because you’re pureblood that it doesn’t bother you so much, but I really think we need to have some sort of intervention. I mean, you’re a Slytherin, but you don’t go around spouting about blood purity, do you?_

_I know that it probably seems like I’m overreacting to you – and maybe you’re right. Still, I can’t help but feel like Marlene and Mary were right about Severus._

_Please help._

_Lots of love,_

_Lily xxx_

 

Rose sighed as she picked up the next letter. She knew Lily would expect a reply relatively soon due to the serious nature of her message, and Rose made a mental note to reply no later than that afternoon. She barely paid attention to her hands as they automatically ripped open the next envelope and eased out a scrap of parchment covered in Severus’ spidery writing:

 

_Rose,_

_Have you heard from Lily lately? I’ve been writing and writing, but no reply. It’s completely uncalled for, as I’ve done absolutely nothing. When I go around to her house, her silly Muggle mother always tells me she’s in the shower. Is she constantly showering? I find that hard to believe. If you don’t help me, I’m going to confront her myself._

_Sev._

 

His tone was harsh, and Rose didn’t appreciate it. She muttered something under her breath about not being their bloody couple therapist before she threw it aside and picked up the Hogwarts letter instead. At least she knew what this one would be:

 

_Dear Miss Prewett,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o’clock._

_Third-years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade at certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

 

Professor McGonagall wasn’t lying – there was a reading list enclosed in the envelope. Rose, however, could no longer resist temptation any longer, and quickly discarded them both in preference for her last remaining piece of mail. Her hands were shaking with anticipation as she ripped open the envelope and began to read, a smile spreading across her face with every word:

 

_Dear Rosie,_

_I hope you have had a pleasant summer, and I am sorry that it has taken me this long to get back to you, but I am almost certain that you will have found plenty of ways to entertain yourself, running around after your nephews._

_I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear that you wanted to meet up over the holidays, although I understand completely why you thought your father would not want me over. I guess, when your youngest daughter asks to have a boy over for a week in the holidays, any good father would be suspicious._

_Therefore, I did what you asked and tried to convince my parents to let you stay here instead, and I can say that, against all odds, they have said yes. So, if you are still free for the last week of term, then you are welcome. I know it might be a bit short notice, but it genuinely took the last five weeks to get them on board._

_I’m sorry if this next bit is slightly embarrassing – I am embarrassed just writing it – but my mother wanted to give your father the upmost insurance that no, as she put it, ‘funny business’ will be going on while you’re here. (I know. Cringe worthy. I’m sorry.) You’ll have my room, and I’ll sleep on the sofa. If your father still isn’t convinced, he can always owl my father, or Floo if he prefers._

_Do let me know either way. If you are coming, be sure to bring your stuff for Hogwarts, as there won’t be enough time for you to get back home before term starts. We would go to Diagon Alley with you, so don’t worry about that._

_I can’t wait to hear from you again._

_Best wishes,_

_Remus_

 

Rose almost squealed again, but managed to supress it – it was of paramount importance that she didn’t annoy her father now. She stood up, spilling the other letters all over the floor in her haste. Normally she would have left it, but again, Mr Prewett would not appreciate that. Rose quickly collected them all up and took them to her room, stuffing them into her desk draw, where she would look at them again later. Keeping the one from Remus clasped tight in her hand, Rose skipped downstairs, back to where her father was, in the kitchen.

Mr Prewett had long since finished skim-reading through the  _Prophet_  and had moved onto researching his trial. Documents and evidence was scattered over the kitchen table, each piece in a particular place depending on relevance, chronological order, and several other factors. He glanced at Rose over the top of his glasses as she entered, sifting through his file of notes absent-mindedly.

“Ah, you’re back,” he said cheerfully. “Any news?”

Rose nodded, careful not to jump straight into gushing about Remus. “Hogwarts letter, as usual. And Lily wrote – she sends her love, and said to let you know that she’s been following your case.”

Mr Prewett looked slightly taken aback, but pleased nonetheless. “Well, what a sweetheart. I wouldn’t have thought that thirteen-year-olds had much time for the day to day business of the Wizengamot…”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Rose airily, leaning against the end of the table. “Your work really is  _fascinating_ …”

Maybe she put slightly too much emphasis on that last word in her attempts to flatter him, because he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and leant back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Oh really?” he said slowly, watching his daughter closely. “You think so?”

Rose hoped that her cheeks weren’t as red as she feared. “Oh, yes.  I mean, the restriction of the use of Dementors against criminals in Azkaban is a serious human rights issue.”

“Nice try Rose,” he said, eyes sparkling. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know what you mean, dad –” she began, but gave in almost immediately as soon as she saw the expression on his face. “Oh, alright. Remus wrote to me, asking if I could come round next week.”

Mr Prewett sighed, taking off his glasses and hanging them off his jumper collar. “Rose, we talked about this…”

“No we didn’t,” Rose interrupted quickly, forced positivity ringing throughout every syllable. “We talked about Remus coming  _here_ , which you weren’t keen on, so Remus asked his parents instead, so we respected your wishes.”

“You know very well that it wasn’t the technicality of  _where_  you two stayed that was bothering me,” Mr Prewett said sternly, a frown etched into his face. “Rose, you are only thirteen, and I simply think that’s just too young to go spending the night with boys –”

“But it’s not like that, dad! Remus and I are just friends. It’s no different than having Lily over.”

Her father pulled a disbelieving face. “Oh, yes, friends! Completely platonic! Now, where have I heard that before…?”

It was Rose’s turn to frown. “This is not the same as Molly – and besides, even if it was, look how well that turned out for her and Arthur!”

“Rose, this is not a discussion. I said no, and I mean no.”

Mr Prewett clearly seemed to think the conversation was over, as he turned back to his work, placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. Rose, however, was furious. She was not about to let her father just dictate what she could and could not do without a fight.

“This is so unfair!” she said, raising her voice so that her father would pay attention.

His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, but he didn’t look up. “I see you’ve decided to prove how mature you are by acting like a child.”

“Well, you’re being inconsistent! Molly and the twins got away with way more than I do, and I’m not even asking for half as much!”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“No I’m not! You never let me do anything, ever! I’m not your pet!”

Mr Prewett was beginning to get irritated now, Rose could tell – there was a vein twitching in his neck. She wasn’t sure why she was still pushing it, but something was spurring her onwards.

“You’re being ridiculous, and I won’t tolerate it. Go to your room.”

His voice was dangerously low.

“No. I won’t. You’re not being fair. Mum would have let me go!”

That was the final straw. Mr Prewett stood up so fast that he almost upturned the table, and a few of his notes went fluttering to the floor. Rose stepped back a little in shock, despite herself – her father was an intimidating man when he wanted to be.

“How on Earth would you know?” he spat. “You never even met her!”

There comes a point in all arguments when something horrible is said, which holds little to no relevance to the situation other than to cause pain. When Mr Prewett said those words, he had meant to inflict every last bit of hurt that he could onto his daughter, because he knew that he would win the argument if he did. But now, looking at her face, which was slowly crumpling into tears, he realised just what it was he had done. His face turned as white as a sheet.

“Rose, I –” he stuttered, but it was no use. Rose had already turned and run upstairs, so upset that she didn’t even notice that she had dropped Remus’ letter. Her father did, however, and he grabbed it as he ran after her. “Rose, wait!”

By the time he had made it to her room, she had already locked the door. Of course, as a fully trained wizard, Mr Prewett could simply use the  _alohamora_ charm to unlock it, but in the back of his mind he remembered a time he had done so to Molly. His wife had chastised him immensely for it – “The children need privacy, Christopher!” – and he had simply extended the tantrum by a good few days. Instead, he took the gentler approach, walking up to the door slowly and listening through the wood. He could hear the sobs of his daughter, and felt his stomach contract with guilt.

“Rose?” he said quietly.

No reply. The sobbing stopped, but Mr Prewett could still catch the sound of sniffling.

“Rose, I didn’t mean it. I was just angry that you brought her into this. I’m sorry.”

Nothing. Sighing, Mr Prewett returned to the kitchen, aware that he was considerably out of his depth. He had been through the teenage years with Molly, it was true, but his wife had been there for support and encouragement in those days. Now it was just him on his own, and he wasn’t quite sure what the right thing to do was.

What he was sure of, however, is that he needed back up. He quickly made his way over to the fireplace, which was sitting empty in a corner of the kitchen, and loaded it up with logs from the log basket. He whispered  _incendio_ , and the logs burst in to flame, crackling merrily and casting a warm orange light into the little room. Grabbing a small pot from the mantelpiece, Mr Prewett reached inside and produced a pinch of green powder, which he threw into the flames – they immediately turned an emerald colour, and began emanating an eerie glow. Mr Prewett stuck his head into the flames.

“The burrow!” he muttered, trying not to inhale smoke. In an instant, he felt his head being lurched away from his body and through the Floo network, popping out the other end in his eldest daughter’s fireplace. Only, it wasn’t his daughter he came face to face with, but her son, Bill Weasley.

Bill looked at him curiously from where he was sat in his high chair. Mr Prewett tried his best to look friendly, but it was hard when his head was surrounded by green flames.

“Hello, Bill. Is your mummy around?”

Bill cocked his head to the side in thought before turning away from Mr Prewett. For a second, Mr Prewett thought he had been ignored, but then –

“Mama!”

“Yes sweetie?” came a voice from the other side of the room, beyond Mr Prewett’s range of sight. “What is it?”

“Gwampa.”

“Yes, we’re going to see grandpa soon.”

“No. Gwampa.”

Bill turned around in his high chair and pointed at the fireplace. A few moments later, Molly emerged, a streak on flour on her cheek and an apron tied around her waist. She blinked in confusion when she saw Mr Prewett.

“Dad? What are you doing in my fire?”

Mr Prewett smiled sheepishly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Oh, no, just me cooking lunch,” said Molly breezily, kneeling down so they were eye to eye. “But what is it? It’s not like you to call unannounced.”

Mr Prewett swallowed – it was a difficult subject to bring up.

“I had a fight with Rose,” he managed eventually.

Molly shot him a quizzical look. “Bad enough that you need my help?”

Mr Prewett nodded. “Your… mother… may or may not have been brought into it…”

“Oh, dad…” Molly’s expression immediately turned grim. “What happened?”

“Well, you know that Rose has been angling to go to this boy’s house all summer.”

“Ahh…” said Molly, as though everything was suddenly clear. “I assume you said no?”

“Of course. And then she said – quite out of the blue, I might add – that your mother would have let her go.”

Molly pulled an expression that her father couldn’t quite place. “She shouldn’t have done that… but then she’s right. But that’s not important right now,” she added quickly, seeing the look on Mr Prewett’s face. “What happened next?”

Mr Prewett looked down, ashamed. “Then I said that she wouldn’t know, considering she never met her mother.”

Molly’s eyes widened in shock and she gave her father a disapproving look. “Oh, dad…”

“I know, I know,” said Mr Prewett, flinching at her tone. “I know I messed up. But I can’t apologise, because she won’t talk to me. I was hoping you could check she’s alright?”

Molly frowned. “She might just need time.”

“I think so too, but still – I think she could use a little comfort.”

“You’re right,” said Molly evenly, standing up and dusting herself off. “You go back – I’ll be through in a few seconds. I just have to find Arthur, and make sure he’s okay looking after the boys on his own.”

“Of course, of course… I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Mr Prewett pulled his head out of the fire – a strange sensation when it felt as though his head was no longer connected to his body – and was instantly returned to his kitchen. Molly was true to her word, and only a few minutes later she was upstairs, consoling her little sister, while Mr Prewett remained in the kitchen, trying not to think about what had happened. It was as he sat at the table, brooding over the argument, that he recalled the letter he had picked up off the floor. He reached into his pocket and retrieved it.

It was relatively short, but laid out in neat, well-spaced writing. At the bottom of the page, Mr Prewett caught sight of a signature –  _Remus._

Curiosity overwhelmed him, but he knew it was wrong. Surely, spying on his daughter through her intimate letters was the epitome of bad parenting? And yet, it was almost as though he was unable to control himself as he skimmed through the words, sweet and simply written.

By the end of the letter, Mr Prewett had to confess that Remus sounded like a nice enough boy – and the assurance from his parents that no funny business would occur should Rose come to stay was convincing. Mr Prewett wondered why Rose hadn’t just shown him the letter to start with, but then concluded she was probably working her way up to that. He was still convinced his daughter had overreacted, but now he thought that perhaps he had been too stern, and too quick to dismiss her friendship with this boy.

Something had settled in the bottom of his stomach, and he set the letter aside, placing it on the kitchen counter for Rose to find. He decided it was probably better she didn’t catch him with it. Then Mr Prewett went to the living room and made straight for the shabby old desk in the corner, retrieving some parchment, ink and a quill. He sat down and nibbled thoughtfully on the end of his quill, trying to think of the exact right way to phrase his letter. He was so absorbed in his task, that he didn’t even notice that Molly had descended the stairs and was standing behind him.

“Is now really the time to be working?” she asked, her voice disapproving. Mr Prewett jumped at the sound.

“No, it’s – it’s for Rose.”

Molly blushed. “Oh. Well, I won’t interrupt then.”

Mr Prewett shook his head hastily, scribbling his signature. “No, no, honestly, it’s fine – I’ve just finished, see? How is she?”

Molly shrugged. “She’s not exuberant, but she’s better. I think if you wanted to talk to her, she might listen now.”

“Right,” said Mr Prewett quietly, glancing at the staircase. “Thank you so much Molly, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“It’s fine, dad,” said Molly, with a small smile. “What are big sisters for?”

There was a pause, and then suddenly Molly threw her arms around her father, so that all he could see was the top of her red curls.

“Hey, what’s this about?” said Mr Prewett as he wrapped his own arms around Molly in return, rubbing her back.

“Oh, nothing,” said Molly lightly, although when she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. “I just want you to know that – even though mum’s not around anymore – you’re doing amazing.”

Mr Prewett sniffed loudly. “Well, thank you, sweetpea. Now, go on home and save Arthur from the boys – he’s probably praying for a miracle by now.”

Molly nodded, subtly wiping the tears from her eyes and making her way to the fireplace. “I’ll see you at the weekend for the roast.”

“Can’t wait.”

They smiled at each other briefly before Molly disappeared into the flames. It might not have seemed as a particularly important moment, but to Mr Prewett, it meant the world.

It was with great trepidation that he began to make his way upstairs and then gently knocked on the door to Rose’s room.

“Come in,” said a small voice, which sounded incredibly groggy. With a deep breath, Mr Prewett turned the door handle.

The scene that greeted him wasn’t as terrible as he was expecting. Rose was curled up in bed, the duvet tucked right under her armpits, reading a book. It took a quick glance to ascertain that she was reading  _To Kill A Mockingbird_ , a Muggle novel. She looked up when he walked in, but didn’t make eye contact for long. Her eyes were red-rimmed and sore.

Mr Prewett tentatively walked over to her and eased himself onto the bed. Her muscles tensed, but she didn’t react, which her father took as a good sign.

“I came to say sorry,” he said, watching her closely. She was still staring at the book, but her eyes weren’t moving from side to side anymore. After a few moments, she slowly closed the book and sat up.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry too.”

Mr Prewett wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing to do to talk about her mother, so instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter he had been working on.

“This is for you.”

Rose was puzzled, but she took the piece of parchment from him, her eyes scanning it quickly. They widened and her head snapped up to look at him, her face disbelieving.

“You’re writing to Mrs Lupin to say I can go? But dad – you said –”

“I know what I said,” Mr Prewett said gently, “but I think that perhaps I need to start giving you a little more room to be yourself.”

Rose narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Did Molly tell you to say that?”

Mr Prewett laughed quietly, shaking his head. “No, but thank you for that vote of confidence.” He let out a long sigh suddenly. “The thing is, Rose, you’re thirteen now. You’re not a little girl anymore.”

Rose bit her lip, before edging her way over to where her father was sat and squeezing him tightly so that he couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, goodness Rose, ribs,” Mr Prewett wheezed. Rose lessened her grip but did not let go, instead rested her head on her father’s shoulder.

“No matter what happens, dad, I’ll always be your little girl.”

He smiled, ignoring the prickling in his eyes as he placed a soft kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. “Well, I should hope so. Now, get packing! I’m dropping you off with the Lupins tomorrow morning, and you know I hate being late!”

He carefully pried her arms off him and slipped out of the room, winking as he left. Rose, overwhelmed by the events of that morning, collapsed back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling.  _What was I even doing before all of this?_

She sat bolt upright. “My letters! I need to reply!”

Scrambling over to her desk, Rose grabbed some spare parchment and sat down to scribble a quick note:

 

_Dear Remus,_

_Sorry this is brief – long story short, I can come, and will be arriving tomorrow morning! I hope your parents don’t mind. Dad’s written them a letter, he’s sending it now, I just thought I should let you know personally. Please reply A.S.A.P. with your address!_

_I can’t believe I’m actually going to see you tomorrow, fingers crossed – isn’t it exciting?_

_Best wishes,_

_Rose x_

 

She set the letter aside to dry – was there anyone else she needed to write to?  _Ah yes – Lily!_ Grabbing a fresh sheet of parchment, Rose set about her reply:

 

_Dear Lily,_

_First of all, calm down. You don’t have to deal with this right now – just keep avoiding Sev, and if he dares try and bother you again, you owl me straight away! As soon as we get to Hogwarts in a week, we can have a proper sit down, just the three of us. You know that Sev is easier to talk to when he’s away from his so-called friends._

_I will write to Sev as soon as I can and let him know that we’re worried, if you like. I’m not sure it will work, but we can try. Unfortunately I’m off to Remus’ for the week, so it might take me a few days to get around to it._

_But honestly, Lil, don’t worry about it! What Sev gets up to is not your cross to bear, so please relax. If he isn’t a racist, then we have nothing to worry about. If he is, then he’s not our friend, and we never have to speak to him again. And if he is, I can assure you that the first thing I will do is go to Slughorn._

_Actually, maybe I’ll go to McGonagall – that woman gets stuff done._

_Lots of love, and take care of yourself!_

_Rose xxx_

_P.S. Oh, and by the way, I told dad what you said – he was very flattered. And you know what Lils? You’re right. I don’t appreciate him enough. But that’s going to change._


	3. An Unexpected Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1991**

The phone was ringing. Rose let out a small curse as she glanced over her shoulder at it. She was at a vital moment in cooking her eggs, and she couldn’t step away, but the ringing almost sounded as though it was growing in insistence. With her free hand, she opened the kitchen window.

“Robin!”

Her son looked up from kicking his football to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Can you get the phone please?”

Robin rolled his eyes, but was too good-natured to talk back to his mother. “Sure.”

He dropped the football and ambled inside and over to the phone. Rose wished he would move a little faster – she didn’t want whoever it was on the other end of the line to hang up – but he was gifted with a constant state of ease that meant he didn’t understand the idea of time pressure. It was something he inherited from his father, and therefore caused Rose much irritation.

“Any time today!” she muttered as he finally picked up the phone.

“Hullo?” he said, leaning against the wall. “Oh, hello Mrs Dursley.”

Rose frowned as she plated up her eggs. “Petunia?” she whispered. “What does she want?”

He shrugged. “Yes, she is here, she’s just putting breakfast on the table. Would you like to talk to her?”

There was a small pause as Mrs Dursley replied. Rose set the two plates on the kitchen table and then walked over to her son.

“Of course, I’ll pass you over,” said Robin, grinning at his mother’s scowl. Rose snatched the phone at him, and pointed at the breakfast plate.  _Eat_ , she mouthed, before turning her attention back to Mrs Dursley. “Petunia! How are you?”

“ _Oh, thank goodness you’re there, Eleanor! Something truly terrible has happened!_ ”

“Terrible?” said Rose, her heart pounding. “What do you mean? Has something happened to one of the boys? Are they hurt?”

“ _Oh no, don’t be so silly, nothing like that. But Dudley’s birthday is ruined!_ ”

It took all of Rose’s willpower not to hang up there and then. “Really? Goodness, what’s happened?”

“ _Mrs Figg’s broken her leg and she can’t take Harry!_ ”

Rose was confused. “And this ruins Dudley’s birthday because…?”

“ _Because now Harry has to come on his trip to the zoo, and it’s going to ruin everything!_ ” Mrs Dudley snapped, as though it were obvious.

“How awful,” said Rose dryly, hoping she sounded vaguely sincere.

“ _I know – and I was hoping you could help_.”

Rose grimaced, causing Robin to snigger. She shot him a look of daggers. “How?”

“ _I was hoping you could take Harry for the day?_ ”

“Take Harry?” Rose’s heart leapt in excitement at the thought, but then quickly sunk. “Petunia, I would, but I can’t – I have a meeting with my boss today.”

It was only a half-lie. Mrs Dursley groaned.

“ _Oh, this is a travesty!_ ”

Robin was still smiling to himself as he finished off his scrambled eggs. Looking at his smug face, Rose had a sudden idea.

“Would it help if Robin was to go with you?” she asked. “He could occupy Harry whilst Dudley would be free to enjoy himself.”

Robin’s mouth dropped open and his fork slipped out of his hand and clattered onto the floor. He frantically began shaking his head, his grey eyes wide.

“ _Eleanor, that would be wonderful, only – is there any chance you could drop him at the zoo? There’s no room in our car for four children as well as Vernon and I._ ”

“What sort of time were you thinking?”

“ _We’ll be heading off very soon, but it’s the zoo in town, so it’s not too far away – in around forty-five minutes we should arrive._ ”

“Yes, that seems plausible. My meeting isn’t until an hour from now. I’ll get Robin ready and we’ll meet you there.”

“ _Excellent! Talk soon._ ”

She hung up. It was Rose’s turn to grin as she turned to look at Robin; his was aghast.

“What have you done!” he whimpered, leaning back in his chair in despair. “Now I have to spend all day with Dudley and weird Harry.”

“What did I say about calling Harry that?” said Rose harshly, cuffing him lightly around the ear as she collected his empty plate. “And it will be fine. This is a good opportunity for you and Harry to bond.”

Robin muttered something under his breath about not  _wanting_  to bond with Harry, but he knew better than to argue with his mother. For some reason, she was very intent on him and Harry becoming best friends.

“Are you ready?” Rose asked as she placed the plates in the sink to soak. “We need to head out right away, otherwise I’ll miss my meeting.”

“Yes,” said Robin, his face thunderous. He didn’t complain as he followed his mother to the car – a Volvo 940 – but he didn’t engage in any form of conversation as they drove towards the zoo, choosing to stare out of the window instead. Rose sighed.

“Honestly, Robin, it won’t be so bad! And besides, you need friends.”

“I have friends!” said Robin defensively, but he blinked rapidly, as he always did when he was lying.

Rose frowned. “Well, either way, Harry doesn’t, and he could use the support of someone like you. Someone sweet.”

Robin covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. “Mum, please, don’t call me sweet in front of Dudley. I’ll never live it down.”

Rose couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Okay, okay! Don’t worry, I’m not going to go inside with you, I’m just dropping you off. We’ll be there in a few minutes anyway.”

Her son grunted. It wasn’t long until they pulled up in front of the zoo, and Rose quickly spotted Mr Dursley’s Range Rover in the carpark. She leant over to the passenger seat and gave Robin a big kiss on his cheek, which he quickly wiped off with his sleeve.

“Argh, mum.”

“Now, be nice to Harry,” said Rose, completely ignoring his complaints, “and I’ll pick you up from the Dursleys later today.”

“Can’t I just walk home? We live next door.”

“I need to say hello to Petunia, or she’ll think I’m rude,” said Rose airily. She didn’t want to admit that she would like to see Harry again – the short glimpses of him as he went to school, or when Petunia had him gardening, didn’t satisfy the ache in her chest.

“Fine, fine,” muttered Robin, still sulking as he got out of the car and began to walk towards the zoo. Rose quickly rolled down the window and called after him.

“Robin!”

Her son let his head roll back in irritation before turning back towards the car. “Yes?” he asked as he leant in through the window.

“Remember – no mention of magic!”

“I know! You don’t have to say it every time!” Robin exclaimed. “I’ll see you later.”

“Love you!” Rose shouted after him. He waved, heading inside. Rose sighed, trying not to think about how Harry and Robin should have been so much closer, and started the engine. She wasn’t about to drive all the way to Scotland – as a pureblood witch, driving to the local supermarket was stressful enough – so she needed to get home, from whence she could apparate to Hogwarts.

Once at home, Rose hurried upstairs to her room and opened her bedside table, grabbing the letter she had stored there for safekeeping. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Rose opened it up, checking she had the details right:

 

_Dear Ms. Prewett,_

_I hope you are well. If you are not busy, I was hoping you could come to Hogwarts this Sunday at around 11:00 am for a meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Although I am unable to disclose the reason for this meeting at this moment, rest assured that it is important, and he would like to discuss it with you. If you are unable to attend on Sunday, please send an owl at your earliest convenience, and we can reschedule._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

 

She checked the clock – 10.45 am. She had better get going. She hurriedly made her way downstairs to the living room, but not before checking her appearance in the mirror. She looked professional enough for Muggle standards, but she wondered whether Professor McGonagall might not be expecting wizard robes. Sadly there wasn’t enough time to change, so she simply stayed as she was and headed downstairs. After locking the door and closing the curtains, Rose apparated to Hogsmeade.

As soon as she appeared in the small Scottish village, she could see Hogwarts looming in the horizon. Without a backward glance, Rose began walking towards the castle, which, although shrouded in fog, was still an obvious landmark. After what must have been about five minutes, the castle gates were only a few feet away, and Rose saw the hunched figure of Filch waiting. When he caught sight of her, he pulled a disgusted face before opening the gate.

“Mr Filch,” she said courteously. Filch grunted in reply. “I assume you’re here to show me to Professor Dumbledore’s office?”

Again, Filch said nothing, merely began walking towards the castle. Rose followed, wondering whether he had a grudge against her, or if he was just being as disagreeable as always. Perhaps, she thought, he remembered her from her student days – or, more specifically, her friendship group.  _Yes, that’s probably it._

They walked through the entrance hall, and through the seemingly endless hallways, strangely empty on the Sunday morning. Eventually they came across a lone Gargoyle, and Filch turned to face her.

“I don’t know why I had to bring you – I expect you remember it.”

“Actually, I never had the pleasure,” said Rose coolly, looking down her nose at him – or, at least she tried. Being five foot four had its limitations.

Filch grinned evilly, yellow teeth glinting through his thin lips. “Good thing too. Rotten seeds grow into rotten trees, and you know what happens to them, don’t you?” He leaned in uncomfortably close, so that Rose could feel his rancid breath on her skin. “They get chopped down.”

Rose, affronted, tried to say something in retort; however, not knowing what Filch was implying, she found she couldn’t think of the words. He turned towards the Gargoyle again and muttered “Fawkes.”

“I can’t hear you,” came a muffled voice from the Gargoyle. “Speak up.”

“I said,  _Fawkes_ ,” growled Filch, looking as though he’d rather like to smash the statue’s face in with his broom, which was clutched to his side, as always.

“That’s better.”

The Gargoyle jumped aside, and a large door appeared and opened in the wall behind it. Behind the door was a moving spiral staircase, leading, Rose assumed, to Dumbledore’s office. She stepped closer, and glanced wearily upwards in an attempt to see where the stairs led. She saw nothing. She knew she was being foolish, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Filch had deliberately taken her to the wrong place.

“Well?” barked the Gargoyle. “What are you waiting for?”

Swallowing slightly, Rose stepped onto the stairs. As they whisked her up, she just caught a glimpse of Filch shuffling away down the corridor before the door closed. Tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, Rose closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Her hand on her diaphragm, she concentrated on the movements: in, out, in, out, in…  _Everything is going to be okay._

Suddenly the staircase stopped. Rose opened her eyes to see another imposing doorway, behind which she hoped was the office. Stepping off the staircase and onto the stone ledge, she raised her hand to knock on the door, but then paused, uncertain.

The choice to enter was taken out of her hands. “Come in,” said a gentle but firm voice that Rose recognised as Professor Dumbledore’s. Exhaling slightly, she did as he asked.

As the door slowly creaked open at her push, Rose’s eyes widened in awe. Dumbledore’s office was filled to the brim with fascinating things. Every wall was lined with a bookshelf, and each shelf was filled with books, in front of which stood knickknacks and magical objects that Rose could never, in her wildest dreams, have imagined. Above that were portraits, each one representing, Rose assumed, a past headmaster. They muttered at her arrival, their whispering filling the room. In the corner of her eye, Rose caught sight of a flash of orange, which, on closer inspection, turned out to be the bright feathers of a phoenix as it preened itself. Rose could only gape.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?”

Rose started, and turned on her heel to face the source of the noise. In the centre of the room was a large, ornate desk, behind which sat Professor Dumbledore. He was watching her, his half-moon spectacles balanced lightly on the end of his long, thin nose. His eyes were glinting merrily, but there was a definite tinge of sadness.

“He is,” said Rose awkwardly, pulling at her sleeve. Dumbledore clucked, and the bird looked up and cawed softly. Dumbledore smiled.

“His name is Fawkes – hence the password,” he mused, cutting Rose off before she had the chance to comment on that herself.

She nodded slowly, desperately trying to think of something to say – Sirius had always been the charming one, not her, and she found that being alone with Dumbledore had put her under extreme pressure to be interesting. “Is he a pet, or…?”

“I prefer the term companion, but, for all intents and purposes, yes.”

Rose wasn’t sure what to say to that, or whether she had offended him, so she fell quiet. Dumbledore gestured towards the chair opposite him, and she sat down, clasping her hands in her lap. Dumbledore, in contrast, placed his hands on the desk, touching the tips of his fingers together.

“I trust your journey here wasn’t too adventurous? I notice your shoes are soaked through.”

Rose looked down confused, and noticed for the first time the water damage on her shoes from the puddle-ridden road to Hogwarts. “Ah.”

Whipping her wand out of her pocket, she pointed it at her feet and made a complicated hand movement. Her shoes dried immediately.

“Lovely charm work.” Dumbledore smiled. “And Filch?”

Rose frowned. “He said something… Something I didn’t quite understand about rotten seeds and chopping down trees?”

Dumbledore sighed. “He’s a troubled man – I’ve often wondered to myself whether hiring him was the correct decision.”

There was a moment of silence. “Professor… why did you need to see me?”

“You know, after all these years, I think it’s time you stopped calling me professor.” His eyes had some kind of glint in them. “I called you here today because I’ve been following your work at the Ministry very closely, and I must say, I’m impressed.”

Rose laughed disbelievingly. “You are? Did you see the debate last Friday?”

“Indeed I did,” said Dumbledore in a serious tone. “I thought it was a perfect example of the bigotry that a lot of wizards and witches still retain. On the positive, however, your case for amending the Werewolf Register was beautifully put forward, with meticulous historical research.”

“Uhh…” Rose had never been good at taking compliments, especially from her teachers. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It was this case, in fact, that convinced me to invite you here”

“To talk to me?” she said, unable to keep the worry out of her voice. “About what?”

Dumbledore, however, seemed fairly cheerful. “About a job offer.”

That was not what Rose had been expecting. “A job offer?”

“Yes indeed,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “I assume you remember Professor Binns?”

Rose nodded warily.

“Well, as long as he has been the History of Magic teacher, I must say that I have overheard many clandestine comments from the students in the corridors that his lessons are – how can I phrase this – less than thrilling.”

Again, Rose nodded – she remembered her History of Magic lessons at Hogwarts least favourably of all her subjects.

“Now,” said Dumbledore, resting his hands in his lap. “I understand that your specialist subject has always been Potions, and after that I believe Defence Against the Dark Arts. But, as I understand it, you had a penchant for History of Magic at school, and your research at the Ministry has led me to believe that you have a solid understanding of the history of the wizarding world.”

“But Dumbledore, sir,” interrupted Rose, “I didn’t even take a N.E.W.T. in History of Magic.”

Dumbledore waved his hand at her. “I wouldn’t worry about that, I am more than confident in your abilities. You taught Potions at Beauxbatons for five years, I recall, which I take as great recommendation of your teaching skill. So what do you think?”

Rose looked at him blankly. “About…?”

“About being the new History of Magic professor at Hogwarts.”

“Professor Dumbledore, sir –”

“Please, call me Albus.”

“Albus,” she said warily, eyeing him with caution from her side of the desk. “I know my job at the Ministry might not be particularly important in the grand scheme of things, but I’m comfortable there. And it gives me enough money to keep my son and I comfortable.”

Albus’ eyes lit up. “Ah yes, how is Christopher?”

Rose frowned at the distraction, but managed a forced smile. “He is well. He’s with Harry right now at the zoo.”

“Would that be Harry Potter?” said Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” said Rose. “We live next door.”

Whatever Dumbledore thought of that, he chose to keep it to himself. “They’ll both be joining Hogwarts next year of course.”

“Yes. And I think that’s even more of a reason for me not to work at Hogwarts. Poor Christopher would be very embarrassed.”

“Perhaps,” said Dumbledore airily, “but I would have thought your presence would have been a comfort for Harry.”

Rose scoffed slightly. “I’m not sure that his neighbour’s mother would be of much comfort.”

“Well, no,” conceded Dumbledore. “But his godmother might be.”

The colour drained out of Rose’s face. “Albus, you mustn’t tell him. He must not know – I can’t explain that to him –”

“Very well, very well,” said Dumbledore calmly, cutting her off before she could engage in full-scale panic. “But even if he does not find out, you would still be able to support him in a way you haven’t been able to thus far – as his teacher.”

Rose swallowed nervously – as much as she hated to admit it, she was sorely tempted. To mean something in Harry’s life would be everything to her.

“I need time to think,” she said quietly, her head spinning. Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

“Of course. But there is one more thing you should know.”

Rose felt overwhelmed enough as it was, regardless of what the headmaster was about to tell her. “And what is that?”

Dumbledore’s face became very grave all of a sudden. “I have a strong suspicion that Mr and Mrs Dursley will attempt to prevent Harry from attending Hogwarts.

Rose bit her lip. “I think so too. They’ve raised him completely as a Muggle, you know.”

“Oh, I am aware – which brings me to my next point. If you accept the job as professor of History of Magic, then I will expect you, with the help of Hagrid, to take on the challenge of inducting Harry to our world.”

Rose was beginning to develop a considerable headache, but she pushed past it. “And what exactly does inducting entail?”

“Essentially, you and Hagrid are to introduce Harry to the wizarding world to the best of your ability before he joins Hogwarts, and to forcibly collect him from the Dursleys, should they not cooperate.”

“But why me?” asked Rose, desperately confused as to why Dumbledore was so insistent on her being involved. “Surely there are other professors at Hogwarts more qualified.”

Dumbledore gave her an inscrutable stare over the rims of his glasses. “Not only are you being much too hard on yourself, Ms Prewett, but you are forgetting that you and Harry have a connection beyond the ordinary. You are his  _godmother_.”

Rose shook her head. “I still need more time.”

“I understand,” said Dumbledore gently, standing up. “And I won’t keep you any longer than I have to – but if you could owl me at as soon as you are sure…?”

“Absolutely,” Rose replied, following him to the door and allowing herself the first small smile. “Thank you, Albus. I realise I’ve not said it yet.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he opened the door. “Not at all, Ms. Prewett.”

“Please,” she said, stepping onto the staircase. “Call me Rose.”

***

Although her trip to Hogwarts may have been intense, when Rose returned home, she was relatively calm, deep in thought over what was the right choice to make. However, this all changed when she saw Robin sitting on her doorstep, looking dejected. He glanced up at the sound of her opening the garden gate.

“You’re back!” he said, running over to her and throwing his arms around her. This concerned Rose, as it was very out of character.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, giving him a big squeeze before pushing him back so she could see his face. “I thought I told you to stay at the Dursleys?”

Robin sent a shifty look at the house next door. “Can we go inside?”

His tone was worrying, but Rose didn’t ask – she simply did what he said, unlocking the door and shooing her son inside. Once they were alone in the kitchen, Robin visibly relaxed, and collapsed into a chair.

“Now,” said Rose firmly, sitting down opposite him. “Tell me what happened.”

“Alright, well,” said Robin, suddenly all mouth now they were alone, “we were in the reptile house. Dudley and Piers –”

“Piers?”

“Oh, one of Dudley’s friends,” her son answered, waving an imaginary Piers aside. “Anyway, they’re being  _unbearable_ as usual, so Harry and I go and look at this Boa Constrictor, right?”

“Right…” Rose did not like where this was going.

“So, you know I don’t have much to say to Harry, so I kind of wander off to the side, but I’m still within hearing distance. I guess Harry didn’t realise, because he starts talking to the snake – he really is  _weird_ , mum – and I don’t mean talking, talking, no, he’s actually hissing at it. I guess he was very convincing, because you could see the snake hissing back through the glass.”

Rose hitched her breath – could Harry be – ? No, it wasn’t possible. As Robin said, he was just being a little strange.

“While all this is happening, it turns out that Piers was listening too, and he comes over, mouthing off about how Harry got the snake to move. Dudley runs to us and just completely barrels Harry to the ground when he’s not concentrating, so I run over to help Harry up. But before anyone can say anything, the glass of the cage just  _disappears._ ”

Rose’s eyes widened. “You mean –”

Robin nodded. “ _Magic_.”

“What happened next?” asked Rose, her face grim. She had a feeling that the Dursleys wouldn’t have dealt well with this.

“The snake escapes. The Dursleys freak out, and so do all the zoo keepers. Mr Dursley drives us all home as soon as possible, and on the drive home Piers mentions how Harry was talking to the snake. Mr Dursley just about stays calm long enough to tell Piers and I that it’s time to go home, but while I was sat on our doorstep, I heard him going off on one. I think Harry’s in serious trouble.”

Rose’s mouth had set into a thin line. For the first time, Robin looked nervous.

“You – you aren’t mad at me, are you?”

“Oh, no, love,” said Rose gently, rubbing her temples. “Not you. But I need to go send a letter. As soon as you see Harry next, I want you to let me know, okay?”

Robin nodded. “Can I watch some TV?” he asked tentatively.

“Sure, sure…”

Robin excitedly hurried off into the next room, eager to make use of this rare opportunity when Rose was feeling more lenient. Rose, on the other hand, grabbed her wand and whispered something under her breath. A silvery-white wolf leapt out of the tip, and watched her expectantly.

“A message for Albus Dumbledore – I accept your offer. Keep me updated.”

The wolf nuzzled her hand gently before leaping out of the house and off to its recipient, invisible to the ordinary Muggles going about their day in Privet Drive. Rose’s knuckles tightened on the smooth edges of her wand as she tried not to worry about what this meant.


	4. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1973**

“There – do you see it?”

“See what?”

“The constellation, Remus!”

“Uh… no? Wait, what am I looking for?”

“The Dog Star!”

“Oh, right. Why again?”

“Because it’s Black’s namesake! Do you listen to what I say at all?”

Remus couldn’t help the sly grin that was creeping across his face; he loved to tease her. It was one of his great joys in life. He knew for a fact that if he glanced to his left now he would see her, face scrunched up in annoyance, red hair fanning around her head in a way that should be elegant, but in all actuality looked distinctly goofy. It didn’t help that her glasses made her eyes look massive, like some kind of owl. Still, Remus didn’t really register that she perhaps wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the world – to him, she was wonderful. Much more interesting, in any case, than the boring old night sky.

“See, there you go again, drifting off.”

“No, no, I’m listening! Go on.”

There was a small pause.

“Look at me.”

Remus obliged, trying to control the blood rushing to his cheeks. It was one thing to think about looking at her – it was an entirely other thing to actually do so.

“Yes?” he asked quietly, unable to meet her gaze.

“I said, look at me!”

He begrudgingly looked her in the eye. “Yeeeeeeeeesss?”

She smiled. “Good. I have your attention. Now will you  _please_  look at the stars, for Merlin’s sake?”

Remus laughed softly and then did as he was told. He actually tried to pay attention this time, listening carefully as she directed his line of sight this way and that way, from identical star to identical star until, at last, his eyes fell upon the brightest spot in the sky.

“I see it.”

“You do?” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said, not looking at the sky at all. “It is.” He turned away. “Sirius will be thrilled.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t know, seeing as I still haven’t been introduced yet.”

Remus blinked quickly. “So what makes it so bright?” he asked a little bit too loudly, determined to change the subject.

“It’s two stars, not one,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But that’s not interesting anymore. What’s interesting –” She rolled onto her side so that she could see him better. “– is why you’re too embarrassed to introduce me to your friends.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” He scrambled to prop himself up on his elbow. They were now face to face. “Honestly! Besides, you’ve already met them – the train in first year, remember?”

“That doesn’t count.” She wasn’t giving in. “Is it because I’m not cool enough?”

“What? No!”

It wasn’t.

“Is it because I’m a Slytherin?”

“Ugh, no.”

It wasn’t.

“Is it because you’re secretly in love with me?” she asked, tongue in cheek.

“ _Definitely not_.”

It was.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want them to meet you,” he said sighing, desperately trying to find a way to deflect her attention. “It’s just that they’re… an acquired taste.”

Remus was proud of his answer – it wasn’t a lie, but he hadn’t had to tell the truth either. She did not seem so convinced.

“Fine,” she snapped, pouting as she lay on her back and crossed her arms. “If you’re not going to tell me then I’m not going to talk to you.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. She ignored him. “Hey. Hey, Rose. Rose! Will you at least acknowledge that I’m speaking?”

Still nothing. He leant over her so that his nose was inches from hers. She glared back. “Now listen hear, Rose Prewett. You are my best friend, and I won’t have any of this self-pitying nonsense from you. If it means that much to you…” He took a deep breath. “Then fine. I’ll introduce you. But don’t blame me if they’re not half as brilliant as you’ve got them cracked up to be.”

A smile immediately broke out over her face. “You will? Oh Remus, thank you!” She tackled him into a hug, winding him in the process.

“Glad to be of service,” he wheezed, trying to touch her as little as possible, his face turning red.

“Remus? Rose?” came a voice from the cottage behind them – Mrs Lupin. “Come in now darlings, it’s too late to be out in the cold.”

Remus immediately weaselled his way out of Rose’s grasp and stood up. “Come on, we can’t keep mum waiting,” he panted, hoping that she couldn’t see how uncomfortable he looked in the dark. He risked one last glance at her before making his way inside. Slightly confused, but mostly unperturbed, Rose bundled up the blanket in her hands and followed on.

***

“Alright,” said Molly, her voice weary. “I’ll get the first half of the list, you get the second. We should be done double time then!”

Before Rose could agree or disagree, her sister was off to the left side of the shop, letter flapping in her hand as she hurried to find at all of the books. Rose decided to head off to the right, feeling that they would cover more ground that way.

She decided to search for  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  first, as, to her, it sounded the most interesting. She wandered amongst the bookshelves, running her fingers along the spines, repeating the name Newt Scamander in her head. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the boy doing the same thing in the opposite direction; that is, until they collided with one another. The boy dropped his books in alarm.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Rose immediately got down on her knees and helped him retrieve his books. The boy kept muttering things like, “Please, don’t worry”, but Rose ignored him. She noticed he jumped whenever their hands accidentally brushed. When they had collected all the books and piled them back into the boy’s hands, Rose brushed her knees off and grinned.

“Are you going to Hogwarts too?”

The boy made a small nod.

“I thought so. I recognised the books from my list.”

There was a short pause, which Rose used to take in the boy’s appearance. He was tall and thin, taller than Rose, although that wasn’t difficult. He had light brown hair that flopped naturally down into his eyes, which were a dull green. He also had a few scratches on his neck and face. Rose wondered how he got them, and whether they covered his chest and arms as well.

“I’m Rose,” she said merrily, breaking the silence. “Rose Prewett.”

The boy smiled shyly, and it lit up his face. “Remus Lupin.”

“Nice to meet you Remus. I don’t suppose you could help me find my books, could you? You look like you’ve got the whole set there.”

Remus frowned slightly. “Almost. I’m still missing A History of Magic.”

He spoke very quietly, as though he was too nervous to speak at normal volume. Rose shrugged. “That’s the first half of the list; I’m only looking for the second half. My sister and I, we split up. So, if you help me find the second half, she should be able to help you find the book you’re after. That is, if you want to?”

Rose was aware that she often came off a bit strong, and she didn’t want to scare this boy, who was definitely more reserved than any other child her age that she had met. Fortunately, the boy looked thrilled to be asked for his help.

“Sure,” he said, and quickly set to finding the books that she was looking for.

“So, Remus Lupin,” said Rose, watching him carefully pick out the nicest edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them from the pile of textbooks, “where are you from?”

Remus looked at her quizzically for using his full name. Then a flash of nervous energy passed over his face, and he muttered, “Somewhere in Wales. You wouldn’t know it.”

“Wales, really?” Rose cocked her head at him. “You don’t sound Welsh.”

The boy shrugged. “I haven’t always lived there. We move around a lot.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything. “I come from Devon. It’s in south – but I’m sure you know that already.”

Remus nodded, watching her cautiously as he picked up One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Rose waited for him to say something, but after a while, she chose to break the silence instead. “Are you nervous about going to Hogwarts?”

He paused and bit his lip, his hand left resting on a copy of Magical Drafts and Potions. “Very nervous,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been to school before – I’ve always been home-schooled.”

Rose grinned, then straightened her face, forcing it into a serious expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to smile at that. It’s just… I’m so glad you’re nervous too! My sister Molly – the one I was telling you about? – Well, she and my older brothers, who’ve also been to Hogwarts – they were so confident and not nervous at all, and all I can think is that maybe Hogwarts got it wrong and I’m really just a squib and when I get there I’ll be so far behind because I’m not actually very clever and…”

Remus was nodding politely, now carrying eleven books in his arms. Rose trailed off, twiddling her thumbs. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s fine.” Rose blushed in embarrassment. “Honestly.”

Rose looked up to see that Remus was smiling at her.

“You mean, you don’t find my rambling annoying?” she asked, surprised. “Aunty Sarah’s always talking about how unladylike it is…”

“I like it,” said Remus. “I don’t like the quiet.”

Rose considered how ironic this was, considering that Remus was possibly one of the quietest people on first encounter that she had ever met. She looked at the boy curiously for a second before she snapped out of her reverie.

“Oh, you’re carrying all the books!”

There was a short kerfuffle as the appropriate books were redistributed between the two of them. A small argument ensued as Remus insisted on swapping one of his books for one of Rose’s, so she could have the nicer cover. Rose protested for a while, but eventually realising he wasn’t going to give in, she sighed and accepted it. The two of them wondered towards the other side of the shop, where they quickly ran into a flustered Molly.

“I have everything! Do you have your half?”

Rose nodded. “Remus helped me.”

“Who’s Remus?” said Molly, before noticing the tall boy stood next to her sister. “I’m guessing that’s you?”

Remus nodded shyly, immediately retracting into his introvert shell. Rose didn’t blame him – Molly was a lot older than them, and slightly intimidating. “Remus was hoping you could find him a copy of A History of Magic?”

“Of course! It’s just over here sweetheart…” Moly said kindly, thrilled to have the chance to mother another first-year. A few moments later, the three of them were standing in the queue, ready to pay for their books. Remus was scanning the crowd within the shop for his parents – he explained to Rose, in a hushed whisper so that Molly couldn’t hear, that his parents were keeping his money.

Just as Remus was starting to get anxious at their rapid approach to the front of the line, a middle-aged couple with matching worried expressions came into view.

“Mum! Dad!” Remus called, in the loudest voice Rose had yet heard him use. “Over here!”

The look of relief on his parents’ faces was evident as they hurried over to the line.

“Remus, where have you been?” said the woman in a scolding tone. She bore little resemblance to Remus, excluding her kind, almond shaped eyes that were the same murky green. Remus stared at his feet, shame-faced.

“We thought you were lost!” said Remus’ father. His voice was hushed, but the annoyance was clear in his voice. “You were supposed to take ten minutes to get back to us!”

Remus opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Rose spoke up.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr and Mrs Lupin – I distracted him. He was helping me find my books, you see.”

All three Lupins stared at her, bewildered. Rose wondered if perhaps she should have kept quiet; Molly certainly seemed to think so, looking at the sky in embarrassment. Molly always said that Rose had a habit of butting in where no one wanted her opinion.

Mr Lupin coughed awkwardly, but shot Rose a polite smile. Rose noticed that it was almost like looking at Remus in twenty years, so obvious was it that this was his father. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Remus picked up at the mention of introductions. “This is Rose Prewett, and her sister Molly.” Molly sent his parents a small wave. “We were helping each other find our books.”

“So Rose said,” Mrs Lupin replied, watching Rose cautiously. Rose felt under great scrutiny. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Rose. And you too Molly.”

“I assume you’re shopping for Hogwarts too?” said Mr Lupin, his grey eyes sparking with interest.

Rose and Molly nodded simultaneously. “She can’t wait,” said Molly, shooting Mr Lupin a winning smile. The two adults melted at the sight of it, and Rose watched on enviously – she could never understand how Molly managed to do that.

“How nice to find such lovely girls,” said Mrs Lupin, smiling warmly at Molly and Rose. “You and Rose can sit next to each other on the train – there you go Remus, one less reason to be nervous!”

Remus turned bright red, both at the assumption his mother had made and at the revelation of his nerves. Before he could say anything, however, Molly interrupted him once more.

“That would be lovely! Wouldn’t it, Rose?”

“Oh yes,” said Rose. “It will be nice to have some company.”

Rose sent a small wink in Remus’ direction, and he blinked rapidly before beaming at her.  _He really is very endearing,_ Rose thought to herself.

***

Platform nine and three-quarters was nothing like Remus expected. There were Hogwarts students everywhere, roaming the platform with their huge cases, and many with animal cages. He wanted to crawl back into his mother’s arms and hide, but he knew he had to be brave; otherwise, his father might not let him leave.

Trying desperately to ignore the squeezing sensation around his heart, Remus looked for a flash of red hair. There were a few false alarms, but eventually he saw a gaggle of redheads stood near the edge of the platform.

“Mum, there’s Rose – can I go and say hi?”

Hope looked worriedly around the busy platform, but Lyall nodded quietly, and she sighed. “Okay, go on then. But remember to come back before you get on the train.”

Lyall gave his son a swift smile before Remus hurried off into the crowd.

“He’ll be fine,” he assured his wife, giving her a soft kiss on the top of her head. “He’s growing up.”

Remus was beaming as he approached them, but Rose caught his eye just before he called out and shook her head rapidly. Remus stopped in his tracks. Rose mouthed the words five minutes at him, and Remus nodded, awkwardly trying to look casual. Luckily it didn’t seem like Molly or the rest of her family had noticed him. From his position, he could overhear their conversation word for word.

“Now remember, I want none of this nonsense that your brothers pulled from you –” said a tall, stern-looking man with strawberry blond hair.

“Gee, thanks dad,” muttered one of the two boys with them. His father shot him a glare and ignored him.

“You’re to get good grades and follow your sister’s example – if you’re lucky, you might even get Prefect if you start off right.”

“I think it’s a little early to be thinking about that sort of thing…” said Molly cautiously, but no one was listening to her.

“I know, I know dad!” said Rose, succeeding in wiggling her hand away from her father’s firm grasp. “Now please let me get on the train, I can’t stand to wait any more –”

She appeared to be searching for words, staring around at the platform that had filled Remus with such nerves, with interest and hope.

Her father sighed. “Just be careful. And don’t try to be someone you’re not in order to look cool in front of your new friends – it never ends well.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I  _know_ , dad. I’m not stupid like these two.”

“We’re not stupid,” said her other brother, pulling a face of mock offence. “How could you say such a thing!”

“Oh, shush you!” said Molly, whacking him on the shoulder.

“Can I please go and talk to Remus now?” said Rose, looking distinctly bored.

“Alright,” said her father after a short consideration, “But be sure to come back to us before you get on the train!”

“I will!”

Rose immediately ran over to Remus, who quickly had to pretend he hadn’t been eavesdropping at all.

“Are you alright?” he asked, a little uncomfortable at stealing her away from her family.

“I’m fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. She breathed out heavily. “My brothers just drive me mad – thankfully they’re sixth years, so I’ll never have to see them at Hogwarts. Let me just say goodbye to my father and Molly, and I’m all yours. We can talk more on the train.”

Rose ran off again, and Remus took the opportunity to say goodbye to his own parents. Hope fussed over him greatly, seemingly not able to hug him enough for her liking.

“Time to let the boy go, my love,” said Lyall lightly, winking at Remus. Remus felt the strong pat of his father’s hand on his shoulder and felt a little braver. Hope muttered something about hoping he had packed enough clean underwear before burying her face in a tissue.

Lyall knelt down so that he and his son were face to face. “Now, remember Remus: tell no one. You’ll be absolutely fine as long as you stay under the radar.”

Remus nodded, the butterflies in his stomach back again. With one last wave to his parents, he heaved his case onto the train, looking for Rose. He found her eventually, sat next to another redhead girl he didn’t recognise, who was hunched over in her seat by the window, sharing a compartment with three other boys.

Remus wasn’t sure whether to say anything, but Rose saw him waiting at the door, and beckoned him in.

“There you are, Remus.” She grinned at him and he sat down next to her.

“Who’s she?” he whispered, eyeing the strange girl’s tear stained face.

Rose shook her head sadly. “I don’t know. But she’ll get over it by the time we get to Hogwarts, I think…”

Remus wasn’t sure what to say, but then he noticed the small kitten in Rose’s lap. “Who’s that? Is he yours?”

“Yep,” said Rose, beaming. “His name is Cat.”

“Well, that’s, uh… self-explanatory?”

Rose winked at him, and Remus felt his cheeks burn. Suddenly, another boy entered the compartment. Rose looked up at the noise, but clearly wasn’t fazed by his presence, her attention quickly returning to Cat. He had a hooked nose and a veil of long, oily hair. He eyed Remus and the other three boys, who were making a lot of noise, suspiciously before sitting opposite the girl next to the window.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” said the girl, her voice harsh.

“Why not?”

“Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.”

“So what?”

Remus wasn’t sure if Rose too was listening, but a quick glance at her face told him that she was intrigued.

“So she’s my sister!”

“She’s only a –” the boy caught himself before he went on. The girl didn’t notice, too busy wiping her eyes.

 “But we’re going!” said the boy, unable to hide his excitement. “This is it! We’re off to Hogwarts! You’d better be in Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?”

It was the first time one of the other boys in the compartment had spoken to their little group of four. The boy in question had jet-black hair that stood up in all sorts of different angles, and bright hazel eyes, partially obscured by square glasses. He had an air of privilege about him that Remus distinctly lacked.

“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” he asked the boy sitting opposite him. This boy had a similar air of privilege, if not more so, but his face fell at the question.

“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he said morosely.

“Blimey,” said the boy with glasses. “And I thought you seemed alright!”

The other boy grinned, his grey eyes lighting up. “Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

The boy with glasses pretended to lift an imaginary sword.

“‘Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.”

The hook-nosed boy made a small noise, sounding somewhere between a snort and a sigh.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No,” said the hook-nosed boy, sneering slightly. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy…”

“Where are you going, seeing as you’re neither?” quipped the grey-eyed boy, making the one with glasses howl with laughter. The girl pulled a disgusted face at them.

“Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.”

“Oooooo…” The two boys mocked her voice as she and Severus stood up to leave.

As they left the compartment, the boy with glasses tried to trip Severus up. “See ya, Snivellus!”  
Remus moved opposite Rose so he could speak to her better and grinned – he couldn’t help himself. “Well, they were quite… intense.”

“Weren’t they? Can’t imagine being in a compartment alone with them. Although I’m not sure this lot are much better.”

She jerked her head in the direction of the other boys, piquing their interest in her again.

“You mean you don’t appreciate my dashing good looks?” said the grey-eyed boy with fake sincerity. Rose rolled her eyes.

“Actually, your looks did come into it. I decided sitting near someone so unattractive was a good boost for my self-esteem.”

The boy with glasses laughed hard again, wiping fake tears from his eye. The second boy scowled, stroking his long black hair self-consciously, but the edges of a smile were tugging at the corners of his lips. Remus chuckled, shocked by the speed of her retort. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he murmured when everyone had calmed down. Rose winked at him again, and his stomach did a flip.

“ I’m James,” said the glasses boy, holding out his hand. Rose and Remus both shook it. “James Potter. And this is Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew.”

The second boy – Sirius – waved as he languished in his seat. Peter, who had been silent the whole time, shot them a small smile.

“Rose Prewett,” said Rose. “And this is Cat.” She held up the kitten for their inspection. Sirius eyed it suspiciously.

“Ignore him,” said James cheerfully. “He hates cats. Can I hold him?”

Rose handed over Cat to James, who dutifully snapped a piece of loose string from the bottom of his shirt and began playing with the kitten.

“And you are?” said Sirius, looking at Remus.

“Oh, I – I’m Remus,” he stuttered, wishing he sounded more confident. “Remus Lupin.”

“Nice to meet you, Remus.”

The rest of the journey was just as fun, and, Remus suspected, a lot more fun than the journey that Severus and the redheaded girl were having. Half way through, a lady with a trolley full of sweets came around. The three boys quickly set to work buying armfuls of sweets. Rose too stood up, jingling her purse.

“You not buying anything, Remus?” she asked. Remus shook his head.

“All my money’s in my trunk,” said Remus quietly. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t afford to waste money on treats.

Rose waved his complaints away. “Don’t worry – I’ll buy you some, you can pay me back later. What do you want?”

Remus shook his head, painfully aware he wouldn’t be able to pay her back. “Honestly, I don’t want anything.”

Rose eyed him quizzically before buying things for herself. When she came back, she had one Pumpkin Pasty and two Chocolate Frogs. She chucked one of the frogs at Remus as she sat down. Remus opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “R-Rose, I –”

“It’s on me,” she said, tucking into her pasty.

The five of them happily discussed their Chocolate Frog cards for a while, and Rose told Remus all about her twin brothers, Gideon and Fabian, and her sister’s husband Arthur. With about half of an hour left of the journey, Rose slipped off to change into her robes. By the time she returned, they had arrived at Hogsmeade Station.

“Sorry,” she said brightly, her red hair contrasting greatly with her pitch-black robes. “I was checking in on the twins.”

“It’s okay,” said Remus, glad she was back. Cat had been pawing his robes for a good ten minutes, and his tiny claws easily slipped through the material and into Remus’ skin.

The five of them disembarked from the train, leaving their luggage on there as the disembodied voice had asked. Remus had tried to convince Rose to leave Cat, but she refused, and what with the encouragement being given to her by James and Sirius, he doubted he could have done any more.

***

The memories were circling around Remus’ head like a cyclone, and it was beginning to drive him mad. How was he supposed to get to sleep if his brain wouldn’t give him a second of respite? Of course, he knew that it was the guilt keeping him up really, but he blamed it on the fact he was sleeping on the sofa.

He just didn’t want to introduce them properly to each other, because he  _knew_  it wouldn’t end well. There was a reason that they hadn’t stayed friends after their initial meeting, but for some reason, Remus couldn’t bear to tell Rose the truth. In some way, he didn’t want to admit to  _himself_  that James, Sirius and Peter couldn’t be trusted not to judge her based on her house.

He laughed inwardly at the irony that he could trust them with the secret that he was a werewolf, but not that he was friends with a Slytherin.

There was a dull ache at the base of his spine. He wished he was in his bed right now, but Rose was there, probably fast asleep, not troubled by any of this. He decided he should probably try to do the same, otherwise she would run circles around him in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Thinking about the other boys could wait at least until they were back at Hogwarts. He wanted to make the most of his time alone with Rose before everything became so convoluted again.


	5. Families and Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1991**

“Ronald, you are being utterly immature.”

Her youngest nephew’s face immediately turned a flaming red at her comment. “I am  _not!_ ”

“Oh yes,” said Fred from the other end of the table. “Because that comeback was the height of maturity.”

“Shut up, Fred!”

“Thus proving my point,” retorted Fred, grinning.

George shook his head in the manner of a wise old man. “Honestly, Ronald, listen to your elder siblings… we are older, and therefore wiser, and therefore better in every way.”

“That’s so stupid!” snarled Ron. Rose would feel bad for him if he didn’t bring it on himself.

“You know,” said Percy, sticking his chest out to display his Prefect badge at a better angle, “George has a point. You should pay attention to the example we’re setting you. Well, the example  _Rose and I_ are setting you.”

“Hear that, Ron?” said George as he refilled his glass of orange juice. “If Percy the Prefect says we’re right, then it must be the truth. A Prefect could  _never_  be wrong…”

“That’s enough, you two,” said Mrs Weasley sharply, setting down her knife and fork, and shooting the twins a glare as she picked up her wine glass. “You too, Ron. This dinner is supposed to celebrate Rose’s news, and you’re not showing her any kind of support.”

“But mum!” said Ron, furious that no one was taking his side. “This was supposed to be  _my_  year at Hogwarts!”

“ _Your_  year?” piped up Ginny from opposite Fred, one eyebrow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean? Robin’s starting too. You think just because you’re joining Hogwarts this year that everything has to be just as you want it?”

“Yeah!” said Robin indignantly, too busy filling his mouth with roast potatoes to really listen, but he had looked up at the mention of his name.

“I didn’t say that –”

“I have to be honest,” said Mr Weasley lightly, helping himself to an extra dollop of bread sauce, “that does seem to be the case. I don’t see what difference Rose being a professor makes to your education other than it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Well… yeah,” said Ron, unable to think of a better argument than that. “I bet if Percy was the one teaching at Hogwarts, Fred and George would be complaining  _non-stop_  until he quit!”

“Yeah, but that’s because Percy’s a prat,” said Fred nonchalantly.

“ _Fred_!” snapped Mrs Weasley. Her son held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Sorry, sorry…”

From the look on Percy’s face, he did not accept the apology.

“He’s right though,” said George matter-of-factly. “Rose is cool – ergo, her teaching at Hogwarts is also pretty cool.”

Ron scowled at his roast parsnips. “I already have to live up to all of your reputations, and now, on top of being known as your younger brother, I have to deal with being our  _professor’s_   _nephew_  as well.”

“Oh, Ronald, will you stop being so melodramatic,” said Mrs Weasley tersely. “All of your brothers had to go through that as well. Even Rose had to deal me. You’re no more maligned than anyone else. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, this is Robin’s  _mother_  we’re talking about and he’s making less of a fuss than you are!”

“I know when to keep my mouth shut,” muttered Robin, winking at Ginny.

“No, no, I understand,” said Rose through a mouthful of roast chicken. Ron looked up in shock.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, just think about it – all the teachers are going to associate me with  _you_.” She added a fake shudder for dramatic effect. “The  _horror_.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Mr Weasley, his stern tone contrasting strangely with the snickers coming from the twins, Robin and Ginny. “I think Ron’s learnt his lesson.”

Ron looked as though he would never speak to any of them ever again.

***

“So, what’re you teaching?” asked Ginny, who was sat cross-legged on her aunt’s bed. They were easily identifiable as related – now that Rose wore contact lenses, the only difference between them was that Ginny’s hair was straight, not curly. And, obviously, the age gap, which was twenty-one years.

“History of Magic,” said Rose, pulling a face. “It’s the most boring subject, but Dumbledore personally sought me out for the position, so I couldn’t exactly refuse. I wish I could teach Potions, but Snape’s got his slimy fingers all over that job; I’d have to pry it out of his cold, dead hands.”

Ginny watched her thoughtfully as Rose went about emptying her wardrobe. “You must be pretty good, if Dumbledore wanted you,” she said eventually. Rose nodded her head, distracted by the mountain of clothes that lay on the floor in front of her; she hadn’t sorted this wardrobe out in years…

“I guess I must be… or he was desperate.”

Ginny jumped off the bed and came to stand next to her aunt. “What you doin’?”

“Sorting out what clothes to take to Hogwarts,” said Rose glumly, as she picked up a leather miniskirt that her father had absolutely banned her from wearing after one outing. It was much too small for her now. “What do you think?” she asked, grinning as she held it to her waist and struck a pose. “Classroom appropriate?”

Ginny giggled and stole it out of her aunt’s hand. “Definitely not…” She inspected the skirt, her face almost envious.

“You can have it, if you want,” said Rose, as she picked up a floral dress that she must have last worn when she was twelve. She threw it into a corner, mentally designating it as the discard pile.

Ginny’s chocolate-brown eyes were wide. “Are you serious? I can really have it?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s way too small for me – just don’t  _ever_  tell your dad, and you have to promise you won’t wear it anywhere until you’re  _at least_  fifteen. In fact,” said Rose, gesturing towards all the clothes laid out in front of them, “you can help yourself to any of the stuff I’ve grown out of, or that I’m getting rid of, if you like. Just so long as you help me sort through this mess.”

Ginny beamed at Rose. “Sure!”

Rose smiled back. “Okay, where to start… Well, I have to keep this,” she said decidedly, picking up a small, black dress. “That’s my first date dress. It can come with me to Hogwarts and hide in my wardrobe there.”

“It’s pretty… how many first dates have you had?” asked Ginny innocently, though Rose could see the gleam in her eye.

“I’m not going to answer that question, but too many, I can assure you…”

Ginny seemed satisfied enough with that answer, and pointed to a little yellow sundress as Rose folded the black dress neatly into her suitcase. “What about that one?”

Rose frowned. “You know, I’m not sure… I forgot I even had it, but it is quite pretty… might have to stay here though, can’t think of a need for it at Hogwarts…”

She went to pick it up to see if it would still fit her. As she pulled back the yellow fabric however, it revealed something truly horrifying – a spider the size of a dish plate.

“HOLY F*CK.”

Rose threw herself past Ginny and onto the bed. Her niece shook her head.

“Oh, come on Rose, it’s just a spider, it can’t hurt you.”

“Ginny, have you seen the size of that thing?” hissed Rose, grappling around on the bedside table for her wand. She had never been more comforted to feel the polished wood in her hand. “Stand back, I’m going to blast it into oblivion.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Stop being a drama queen. Here, I’ll get rid of it myself…” she said, approaching the spider, which was making angry clicking noises, and twitching its legs in a disturbing way.

“Wait – Gin –”

But Ginny, in her usual straight-forward manner, was already in front of the giant spider – only, within a few seconds of her being there, it wasn’t a spider anymore. Suddenly it was a blood-thirsty vampire, who was bearing down on Rose’s niece. Ginny was frozen with shock.

“Ginny!”

Without a second thought, Rose grabbed her niece and thrust Ginny behind her, forming a human shield from the vampire. Only, it wasn’t a vampire, Rose knew, as upon facing Rose again, the vampire snapped back into the form of a giant spider.

“What the –”

Rose rolled up her sleeves and held out her wand, trying not to focus on the eight hairy legs in front of her. “Watch and learn, Gin. Riddikulus!”

The spider twitched and then turned into a blueberry muffin. Rose let out a very forced “Ha!” and the muffin disappeared with a loud crack.

Ginny emerged, pale-faced, from behind Rose, her hands shaking ever so slightly. “What the hell was that?”

“A boggart,” said Rose grimly. “They live in dark, cramped spaces – there must have been one in the wardrobe when I emptied it out, and it got caught up in the clothes…”

“What the hell’s a boggart?”

“A dark creature, that takes the shape of a person’s worst fear – that’s why it kept changing from a spider to a vampire… spider for me, vampire for you. It got a little confused. They’re mostly harmless, but obviously quite traumatising if you’re not expecting it. You’ll learn about them at Hogwarts, don’t worry…”

She turned back to her little niece. The colour was beginning to return to her face.

“Sorry I swore, by the way. Not very role-modely of me.”

Ginny shrugged, managing a small smile as she picked up the forgotten sundress and handed it to Rose. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

***

There was light coming from the bottom of the door. Rose knew, therefore, that her nephew was up still, even though it was fast approaching midnight. She had spent most of the evening sorting clothes with Ginny, but now she was all packed and ready for Hogwarts, she thought she owed him an apology. Biting her lip, Rose knocked on the door.

The light immediately turned out.  _Smooth_.

“I’m sleeping, mum,” came her nephew’s voice, not without a hint of annoyance. “You don’t need to check on me all the time, I’m not a child.”

Rose felt a laugh bubbling in her throat, but she supressed it. Though she might consider eleven to be child-like now, when she was that age she would have thought herself incredibly grown-up. It was better not to patronise him.

“It’s not your ma, it’s me,” said Rose through the door, her hand on the doorknob. “Can I come in? You decent?”

There was a small pause, but then, “Yeah.”

Rose opened the door slowly, smiling at her nephew as she slipped inside the room. He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t scowl either, which she considered a success. He was tucked up in bed, Scabbers curled up in the crook of his arm, though he appeared to be playing chess, the board set out on his lap. Rose walked over to him and sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to disrupt the pieces.

“Hey.”

He looked up at last. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry about dinner,” said Rose quietly, as Ron went back to playing his chess game. “The teasing may have gone a little far.”

Ron shrugged. “Yeah, well. I should have been more supportive.”

They sat in silence for a little while as Rose watched Ron play. She tried to think back to if they’d ever really spent time alone. She concluded probably not – Rose was tewnty years older, and had only briefly lived in the burrow for a few months when Ron was one. After that, she and Robin had moved to France for five years, and when they came back, they had set up base in Surrey. Her work at the Ministry had kept her busy, even if it was only an apprenticeship, and since then Ron and she had only seen each other at Christmas, when she finally had time off. Still, the same went for Ginny and the twins, and Rose still remained close to them. She wondered why the same couldn’t be said for Ron.

“I know it’s hard, mate,” said Rose. “Starting a new school. Especially when your aunt’s teaching you.”

Ron sighed, a lock of red hair falling into his eyes. “I just wanted to be noticed, you know? For being something other than someone else’s relative.”

“Listen to me, Ron,” said Rose, leaning forward so that Ron was forced to look at her eye to eye. “You are much more than anyone’s relative, and don’t you forget it.”

Ron smiled for the first time. “Thanks, Rose. You’re pretty cool too.”

“I’ll take it,” she said, laughing. She ruffled his hair and he groaned, edging away from her. The chess game lay forgotten, though Scabbers squeaked in indignation, and Rose had to stop before the rat was accidentally squished. “Now get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah…” said Ron as Rose got up to leave. “God, you’re just like mum…”

Rose fake glared at him. “Don’t make me give you a detention before we even get there.”

***

“Uh… mum? What are you doing?”

“Shhhh!” hissed Rose from inside the hydrangea bush, poking her head out just long enough to grab her son by the front of his shirt and drag him to the ground. “They’ll see you!”

“ _Merlin’s beard!_ ” muttered Robin, groaning as he hit the grass and shooting his mother a scowl. “That’s it, you’ve finally cracked. I knew this day was coming. Time to call Uncle Arthur and have you shipped off to St. Mungo’s –”

“ _Be quiet_!”

Robin fell into a resentful silence, and Rose readjusted her binoculars. Just a little to the right, past a few leaves and… There! She could see them properly now, sat around the kitchen table, Harry’s hair sticking out like a sore thumb. Rose smiled in satisfaction.

“Galloping gorgons,” said Robin suddenly, unable to stay quiet for more than two seconds.

“Well, aren’t you just a lexicon of exclamations,” his mother replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She had been in the same position for half an hour and her muscles were starting to tense – in other words, her patience was limited. “What is it now?”

There was a loud rustling sound to her right, and then suddenly Robin’s face was inches from hers. “Can’t you smell it? It’s like a rabbit died near here or something…”

“Yes, I can smell it. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it’s coming from their house – I saw Petunia doing something in the sink earlier.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “So that’s what this is? In revenge for Mrs Dursley stinking out the street, you’re spying on her?”

Rose let out a disparaging snort. “Trust me, Petunia is not an important factor in my life. No, I’m spying on Harry.”

“Ah yes,” said Robin dryly. “You’re spying on the eleven-year-old boy instead. Of course.”

“ _Quiet_! It’s here!”

Robin was in the process of asking what exactly  _it_  was when there was a sudden exclamation from the Dursley house, and he fell silent.

“Oh, that utter brute,” muttered Rose, the anger simmering in her chest. “That complete and utter brute! Honestly, Dumbledore  _warned_  me about this, but I just – I never considered that he would actually – gah!”

“Mother, what are you going on about?” said Robin, squinting into Number 4 Privet Drive – without the binoculars, it was hard for him to see what was going on. Realising this, Rose thrust them towards him.

“Is – is Mr Dursley burning a letter?” he asked. “Why is he doing that?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Rose suddenly, her tone airy and light. “You know, I’m quite bored of this now. Shall we go inside?”

She ripped the binoculars from him and immediately removed herself from the hydrangea bush, brushing herself off with a steely glint in her eye. Robin stared, quickly following suit. His mother was already halfway across the lawn by the time he caught up with her.

“You know I was joking about you being mad earlier, but now I’m not so sure,” he grumbled, picking a stray twig from his auburn curls. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“No,” she replied primly. “Not your concern. Now go and do your homework.”

“But… but it’s summer…” said Robin, his face scrunched up in confusion, but his mother was already inside, giving Number 4 Privet Drive the evil eye from the kitchen window.

***

“Post!”

Rose looked up from her station at the kitchen window at the sound of her son’s voice, her eyes intense. The Dursley’s had left earlier that day and not returned since. “What post?”

Robin stopped in the doorway and gave her a funny look. “Uhh…  _Post_  post?”

“I meant, who is the post  _for_ ,” she said tersely, trying not to roll her eyes. Robin made an  _ahh_  shape with his mouth before sitting at the table and throwing the two letters down.

“One for you from – well, I don’t know, whoever would be writing to you. And one to me, from…”

He paused to look down at the wax seal on the envelope and his eyes widened.

“Hogwarts,” he finished quietly, his voice fading into nothingness. For the first time since four o’clock that morning, Rose managed to tear herself away from the window and rush to his side – when it came down to it, Robin was always her first priority.

“Oh, sweetheart…” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he was so lost in thought that he neglected to brush it off. “Well, go on then. Open it.”

Robin didn’t move a muscle. He looked up nervously at his mother. “What if I didn’t get in?”

“Robin, they don’t send a letter if you don’t get in,” Rose assured him, ruffling his curly auburn hair. “Now read it!”

Slowly, Robin eased the wax seal off the envelope and removed the letter. Again, it was thick yellow parchment. “Should I read it out loud?” he asked. Rose nodded.

“ _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY._

“ _Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand_  –”

“Yes, yes, we all know that part,” said Rose, waving her hand as she sat down on the nearest chair. “Skip to the important bit.”

Robin skimmed forward a few lines then picked it up again.

“ _Dear Mr Prewett_ ,

“ _We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

“ _Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July._

“ _Yours sincerely,_

“ _Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_.”

Rose smiled broadly. “See? I told you everything would be alright!” Robin grinned back and began jumping around the room in excitement.

“I’m going to Hogwarts! I’m going to Hogwarts!” he chanted. Rose laughed, but after the fifth time, told him to calm down. Robin plonked back down in his chair.

“When are we going to go to Diagon Alley?” he asked, the happiness clear on his face.

“I’ll probably take you down within the next couple of weeks,” said Rose. “Although, bear in mind, we might have to take Harry too.”

Robin nodded, only slightly disappointed. “Anyway,” he added with forced enthusiasm, handing over the unopened letter to his mother. “Your turn.”

Rose took the envelope in her hands and frowned – it was Dumbledore’s handwriting, which couldn’t be good news. It had to be about Harry.

“Oh, this is just from Hogwarts – about my curriculum, I expect. Why don’t you go ahead and play outside? I’ll make some lunch.”

Robin didn’t seem convinced about that, but he kept quiet and headed out into the back garden. Rose let out a deep breath and opened the envelope – it was only one line, scratched hastily onto a sheet of loose parchment:

 

_Harry has been moved – Hagrid will pick you up tomorrow evening._

 

***

The doorbell rang. Rose cursed as she fixed her earring into her ear and desperately scrambled to find the other one on her cluttered dresser.

“Robin!”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered her son, slouching past her bedroom and downstairs to answer the door. Rose meanwhile was frantically collecting her muggle money, wizarding money and keys together and stuffing them into her coat pockets, along with her wand. She could hear the sound of Hagrid’s voice booming around the hall, and took a moment to assess how she looked in the mirror – a pencil skirt, blouse and matching blazer. Perhaps a bit too professional, but she was going to be his teacher. She couldn’t look casual.

“Mum – ” Loud footsteps on the stairs before her son burst in the room, panting. “Mum, there’s a  _giant_  in the front room!”

“Half-giant, actually,” Rose mused, slipping on a pair of ankle boots. “And don’t you go around saying things like that – he’s my ride.”

Robin, who was still trying to catch his breath, hands on his knees, didn’t say anything else. Resigned, he followed his mother downstairs, giving the half-giant a cautious look as they entered the kitchen.

“There yeh are!” said Hagrid, beaming behind the wild, wiry beard. He looked quite ludicrous in Rose’s tiny kitchen, crouching slightly so as not to knock down the light fittings. Rose half wondered how he had made it through the door.

“Hagrid! It’s so wonderful to see you,” she said, genuinely pleased. She moved in for a hug, and immediately regretted it – Hagrid had a habit of squeezing the air right out of someone’s lungs.

“Ah, it’s good ter see yeh, Rose! ‘S been too long,” he replied, grinning as he set her back down on the ground. “And this must be yer boy that let me in?”

It was Rose’s turn to beam. “Yes, it is – Christopher, come here.”

Robin took a few minutes to respond, not used to hearing his full name, but he dutifully came over to stand next to them.

“He looks jus’ like yeh,” said Hagrid happily, winking at Robin who nervously smiled back in return. “’Cept for the eyes, o’ course, they look just like his fath –”

Hagrid stopped himself in the middle of the word, his face falling. Robin shot his mother a curious look, but Rose resolutely ignored it, a tight vice grip taking hold in her chest.

“Anyway, Robin, time to Floo you to your aunt’s!”

Before her son had time to protest, Rose had pushed him away and towards the emerald green flames of the fireplace. He had one last chance to glare at her accusingly before he clearly said the word  _Burrow_  and was whisked away.

There was an awkward silence.

“Sorry ‘bout that…” said Hagrid quietly, shuffling from one foot to the other.

Rose shook her head, forcing a bright expression onto her face. “No matter. You didn’t mean any harm.” She walked over to the front door and held it open for her guest. “Shall we get going then?”

Hagrid nodded sheepishly, still unsure, and they left together. It was at this point that Rose began to consider exactly how it was that Hagrid had managed to get to her – until she saw the giant motorbike sitting in her drive.

“Hagrid – is – is that Sirius’ old bike?”

If Hagrid had been uncomfortable talking about her ex-husband before, it seemed to dissipate with the mention of his bike. “Aye – did Dumbledore never tell yeh? Sirius gave it ter me the day I dropped Harry off.”

Rose knew what he meant by that, but she didn’t probe any further. Neither she nor Hagrid wanted to revisit that  _particular_  day, she was sure. Instead she smiled, though it was very strained, and tried to look pleased.

“I hate this bike.”

She couldn’t help it – the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Memories of hurtling down country roads whilst trying to hold back the vomit came flying to the forefront of her mind. Her heart in her throat as she watched Sirius doing figure of eights in their drive, Robin giggling from the sidecar.

“I knew I shouldnta brought it,” muttered Hagrid, jolting Rose out of her reverie. She shook her head, flustered.

“Oh no, Hagrid, you mustn’t think – oh, I didn’t mean that at all – I’m just not a motorcycle person…”

She stumbled over the words, unsure of how to convince him; he looked quite dejected, despite his grand size. Deciding that actions spoke louder than words, she took a deep breath and climbed into the sidecar, immediately buckling herself in as tightly as possible. She grimaced at Hagrid, attempting to seem happy.

“Comfy.”

Luckily, it worked – Hagrid cheerfully climbed onto the motorcycle, strapping on a helmet and glasses. “Here,” he said, passing another over to Rose, which she gratefully put on.

“Where exactly are we going, Hagrid?” she asked, squinting up at him. The night was dark, and the streetlights had mysteriously turned off, so all she could see was a vague outline.

“Jus’ off o’ the South Coast – shouldn’t be too long since we’re flyin’ an all.”

“Flying?” said Rose, panic creeping into her voice. “What do you mean, flying? Hagrid? Motorcycles can’t –”

Before she could finish her sentence, there was a large roaring sound as Hagrid started the engine and the air was knocked out of her lungs as they took off into the sky. She wasn’t sure what she was more infuriated by – the fact that she was now five thousand feet in the air despite a severe case of acrophobia, or that her ex-husband had never once admitted to her that he had been illegally flying a Muggle contraption over the streets of London.

“That  _b*st*rd_ ,” she screamed, but to no avail. The words were ripped away from her by the wind, and Hagrid didn’t catch a word. Knuckles white with the effort of holding onto the sidecar, Rose decided that yelling into the void really wasn’t helping anybody. After all, it wasn’t like he could hear her from Azkaban. Instead, she jammed her eyes shut and tried to pretend she was on a train, as though she were on the Hogwarts Express all over again. It worked well enough, though she had never been more relieved in her life when she felt the bump of the tyres hitting solid ground once more.

The engine stopped. Gingerly opening one eye, Rose assured herself that they had in fact landed, and then quickly threw herself out of the vehicle, only pausing to rip off her seat belt. The queasiness started to ebb as she rested her head against the rock, and she at last began to take in her surroundings.

They appeared to be on a small, dingy island out to sea. If she focused, she could feel the sea spray on her cheek. The sound of waves slapping the rock sent a sharp stab of fear through her heart. It was the sound she had heard every day outside her cell in –

 _No. We don’t think about that anymore_.

Steeling her stomach, Rose stood and turned to look at Hagrid, who was watching her with concern.

“Y’alright there, Rose?” he asked. “I gotta bottle o’ summat in here if yeh need…”

He gestured towards his coat pockets, but she quickly declined, putting out a hand to stop him. “Hagrid, we’re on business! I’m fine, I just needed a few moments… now, where are we?”

Hagrid glanced around the rock and grimaced. “I dunno, but it’s a strange place ter bring the boy – I’m guessin’ they’re in the shack?”

“Seems likely,” replied Rose, a sardonic glint in her eye. The shack looked too fragile to even be standing in such a storm, but it was. “Shall we pay them a visit?”

Hagrid nodded and advanced towards the door. He shook the handle, but despite its appearance of weakness, it held fast against the giant and did not open. “Locked.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just use  _alohamora_ …” said Rose, reaching into her coat pocket for her wand, but Hagrid held out a hand.

“Don’t worry yerself – we’ll just knock.”

He lifted a great fist and brought it down upon the wooden door.

 _BOOM_.


	6. A Sirius Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1973**

“So, what is the plan for today, my darlings?”

Rose smiled through her mouthful of toast, worried she looked foolish, but Mrs Lupin simply smiled back. They were sat, the four of them, around the Lupin’s kitchen table – Mrs Lupin, her husband, Rose and Remus. Rose considered that she spent a great deal of time in kitchens, and that she thought them the best room of a house.

“Not in particular,” said Remus, bringing Rose back to the present. “Sirius said he would try to get away from his parents for the day, but I’m not sure how he intends to get to Wales…”

Mrs Lupin’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “If I know Sirius – and I think, after two years, I do – he’ll have a few tricks up his sleeve.”

“That’s the problem with Sirius,” said Mr Lupin idly from behind his newspaper. “More tricks than truths.”

Mrs Lupin frowned at her husband, though he couldn’t see beyond his copy of the  _Daily Prophet_. “Well,  _I_ for one think Sirius is a delightful boy – do you know him, Rose?”

“Oh,” said Rose, setting down her glass of orange juice. “No, not really – I mean, I have potions with him, occasionally, but we’re in different houses, you see.”

“Different houses, you say?” Mr Lupin set down his paper at last and gave Rose an intrigued look. “What house is it that you’re in then, Miss Prewett?”

“Slytherin,” said Rose, a fierce pride bubbling under the surface. She knew he wouldn’t like it – no one ever did – but she wouldn’t be sorted into a box just because of her house.

That seemed to be exactly what Mr Lupin was doing, however – she could see the cogs whirring in his brain as he processed what she had told him. She watched him put on a strained smile.

“Really? That’s wonderful.”

“You’d already know that, of course, if you listened to our son,” said Mrs Lupin airily, though the look she was giving him was daggers. “So – what are your colours Rose?”

Rose felt a rush of affection for Mrs Lupin in that moment. As a Muggle, she didn’t hold the same prejudices that her husband did. “Green and silver.”

“Ah, how lovely! That will really bring out the colour of your eyes. And your hair, of course. Such beautiful hair.”

“She adores you, you know,” said Remus later that day as they were making their way into the village. “Thinks you can do no wrong.”

“Well, I can’t, you see,” replied Rose, grinning. She took his hand in hers and took a deep breath, allowing the sea air to fill her lungs. “I love the seaside.”

Remus swallowed deeply as she took his hand, but smiled nonetheless. He did not want her to think of it romantically just because he did. He did not want to make her uncomfortable.

“Really? I’ve never cared for it, myself.”

Rose rolled her eyes, swinging their hands back and forth. “Of course you haven’t. You don’t like anything fun.”

“That is not true!” Remus said indignantly as she pulled him along the cliff side. “I like reading. Reading is fun.”

“Remus, your entire personality cannot be  _book_.  _Book_ is not even a personality trait.”

“Well,” said Remus absent-mindedly, using his free hand to bat back a lock of hair from his eyes. “I would rather that than be known as boring.”

“Oh don’t worry,” said Rose, her eyes twinkling. “Everyone thinks you’re boring too.”

Remus narrowed his eyes at her, pretending to be affronted. “At least you’re not alone.”

Rose laughed out loud, despite her indignation, and haughtily removed her hand from his, instead choosing to run ahead along the hillside. Remus felt a twinge of reluctance as she pulled away, but couldn’t help a small smile as he watched her auburn curls whip themselves around her face. A good ten metres away, she turned suddenly and grinned, her brown eyes twinkling.

“Come on then, slow-coach!” she called back to him. “Catch me!”

Remus simply shook his head and began steadily marching towards  her. “I don’t chase after anyone.”

“Boo, you’re no fun!”

“Maybe not,” said Remus, panting slightly due to the incline, “but when you’ve got bad knees from all this rambling nonsense in fifty odd years, then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

After two years, Rose was used to his grumpiness, and was well aware that he had more aches and pains than all her grandparents combined, so his comments didn’t bother her. Instead, she carried on running, right to the peak of the hill, and blew him an air-kiss before disappearing down the other side. Remus sighed, but didn’t increase his speed. After two years, he knew that she would never leave him behind.

He took the small moment of solace to look out at the sea – it was cold and uninviting, and the hot August sunshine was burning his neck, but he was content. Contentment, he thought, was underrated. Much more reliable than happiness.

“Are you coming?” Rose’s voice drifted back to him from across the sound of crashing waves. “The village looks  _adorable_  and I  _have_ to investigate!”

“It’s really not that exciting,” Remus grumbled as he finally made it to the top of the cliff and looked over the other side. Rose was already halfway down, wild grass up to her knees, staring out at the chocolate-box village nestled into the coastline. “A couple of teashops, newsagents, one fish and chip restaurant and an ice-cream stand. Oh, and a pub.”

“An  _ice-cream stand?_ ” He could see her face light up even from that distance. She immediately began running again, although it was almost like a skip, down the barely visible mud path, dry and dusty in the heat. Remus, no longer able to bear watching her go on ahead, let free his inhibitions slightly and ran after her. By the time he had caught up, his face was red and shining, but thankfully Rose didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, Remus, we  _have_ to go to the ice-cream stand, I can’t  _possibly_  wait any longer – what flavours do they have? Do you think they have rum and raisin?”

“Why would you get rum and raisin?” muttered Remus, trying not to notice the stiffness in his lower back. “You hate raisins, you think they’re inferior grapes.”

Rose sniffed. “Well, they  _are_  inferior grapes – I mean, why not have a grape when it’s fresh, instead of when it’s dead and looks like rabbit droppings.”

“Exactly. Then why would you get rum and raisin?”

She shrugged. “I like to try new things. I don’t want to end up like my father. Anyway, come on!”

She took a decisive step towards the ice-cream stand, but was immediately curtailed by a surprisingly strong hand on her arm.

“Hold on just a minute, we can’t go yet!” said Remus tersely, drained by the sheer amount of energy it took to force her to be sensible. “I told Sirius we’d meet him at  _The Lonely Lighthouse_. It’s a tea shop, just next to the post office – can you see it?”

He pointed to a shop on the left-hand side of the high street, and Rose followed his finger until her gaze rested on a quaint little building, overlooking the harbour down below. It had a baby-blue front, and through the window, she could see the shabby-chic white chairs and tables. It was sweet – but it wasn’t ice-cream. Still, her heart pounded at the thought of finally being introduced to the infamous Sirius Black.

“Alright – there first – but  _after that_ , it’s ice-cream time!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, then you can eat all the frozen goods that you desire.”

They made their way towards the shop side by side, Rose commenting on how beautiful the birds looked in the clear sky, Remus listening to her with polite bemusement. As soon as they entered  _The Lonely Lighthouse_  they were hit by a welcome blast of cool air, and they happily settled themselves in the window seat. Rose ordered a glass of homemade lemonade, whilst Remus opted for a ginger beer.

“So,” said Rose blithely as she sipped her lemonade through a paper straw. “When’s he supposed to arrive?”

“Oh, we agreed on one o’clock.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh inwardly as Rose’s eyes widened in shock and confusion.

“What? We’re so late! That was half an hour ago!”

“Exactly,” mused Remus, taking a quick sip of his ginger beer. “He should be here any minute.”

And, as though summoned by the gods himself, the elusive Mr Black swaggered into the tea shop the instant Remus had finished speaking.

It took him a few minutes to spot the two of them – he hadn’t recognised Rose, and all that had been visible to him was the back of Remus’ head. However, when he finally saw them, he rushed over, ruffling Remus’ hair and causing the younger boy to jump in shock.

“Gah, Sirius!” said Remus loudly, batting away his friend’s hands. “What did I say about touching my hair?”

“Um… I believe your exact words were,  _oh, Sirius, yeah, just like that –”_

Remus really did hit Sirius that time, landing a swift punch on his arm. Sirius was about to complain when he saw how red Remus had turned, and remembered the purpose of his visit. He instead sent a sheepish grin, earning a grimace in return.

“Well,” said Rose suddenly, interrupting the two boys and regaining their attention. “Is anyone going to introduce me?”

“Oh, yes,” said Remus, flustered. “Rose, this is Sirius Black. Sirius, this is Rose Prewett.”

“Charmed,” said Sirius, leaning forward and shaking Rose’s hand. She couldn’t help but blush slightly at the smile he shot her; he was generally considered the most attractive boy at school, after all. Unless you asked Lily, that is.

He really was very good looking, something that only became more apparent when he was seen up close. Moonstone eyes and long, luscious black curls that fell to his shoulders in a way reminiscent of John Lennon. Or maybe it was George Harrison? She couldn’t quite decide, too busy watching him lean dangerously far back in his chair.

“Earth to Rose,” said Remus suddenly, jolting her out of her reverie. He was watching her with mild concern, but by this point in their friendship, he was used to her daydreams. Still, there was something different in his expression – annoyance perhaps?

“Sorry, I was far away… what did I miss?”

Remus’ eyebrows knitted together gently. “Sirius was asking you about Hogwarts.”

“I was asking why you look so familiar,” said Sirius dryly, helping himself to Remus’ ginger beer and earning a frown. “I’m guessing you’re from the year below?”

Rose blinked. She knew that she and Sirius hadn’t spoken since their first day at school, but she was shocked that he had completely forgotten her.

“Uh, no. No, I’m in your year. I hang out with Lily Evans a lot.” She almost mentioned Severus as well, but then decided against it. Potter, Black and Severus had some serious history, and she wanted to make the right impression. “Does Remus not talk about me?”

The two boys shared a brief, panicked glance, which Rose missed. “Well,” said Sirius, clearing his throat, “you know what Remus is like. Doesn’t like talking about himself – unless it’s to be smug about his good grades.”

It was Rose’s turn to frown. This didn’t sound like the Remus she knew at all, but then again, Sirius was his closest friend. It made sense that Sirius would know things about Remus that even she didn’t.

“Ha, yeah.”

There was an awkward silence. Usually, Rose would be the one to break it, but it seemed silence made Sirius even more uncomfortable than it did her.

“Now you mention it, I do recognise you – you sit next to Evans in a few of my classes, right? Potions, is it?”

“Yeah, and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Huh,” said Sirius, brief confusion flitting over his face. “How come I don’t see you in the common room that much?”

Remus, who had been relatively quiet, watching the two of them interact for the first time, choked on his drink. Sirius gave him a look, raising his eyebrows.

“Don’t get too excited there, Remy boy.”

Remus glowered in response. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Yeah, you say a lot of things… So, Rose, as I was saying –”

“Wait!” cried Remus suddenly, standing up and almost upsetting the table. The remainder of his ginger beer spilt. This time, Sirius really did seem irritated, quickly pushing back from the table to avoid being soaked by Remus’ drink.

“Good Godric, Remus!” he said, hitting his friend on the arm in a way that was not gentle, nor teasing. “What is  _wrong_ with you today?”

Remus had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry – I just – I wanted to say something…”

“That’s no reason to act like a toddler!”

Rose left them bickering to go and fetch some serviettes from the lady behind the counter. She handed them over disapprovingly, despite Rose’s winning smile. By the time the redhead had returned, the boys were both sat down again, although the air was still a little tense. Remus gratefully took the serviettes and began clearing up his mess, allowing Sirius and Rose to begin talking again.

“So… sorry, where were we?” asked Sirius, considerably less relaxed than usual. “I can’t remember what we were talking about before this muppet decided to act up…”

He may have been behaving a little strangely, but Rose still felt bad for Remus when he looked down at his feet, wounded by Sirius’ comment. Unlike Sirius, Rose knew exactly what Remus was trying to do, and why he was doing it. It was a sweet gesture really, and done entirely for her benefit, but it was also misplaced.

“Oh, he did it deliberately. He wanted to distract you from the question you were asking me.”

Another silence. Remus gave her an incredulous, if not betrayed, look before throwing his hands up in the air in defeat and falling back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sirius, thrown through a loop for the first time, flickered his eyes between the two of them blankly. Rose simply smiled.

“And what question was that?” asked Sirius eventually, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m starting to feel like I’ve walked into some kind of Russian spy ring.”

“Sirius,” hissed Remus, his voice low. “Not here! This is a Muggle place!”

“Yes, and it was a Muggle reference!” Sirius replied, shrugging. “I thought it was rather witty.”

Remus glared at him. “I’m not sure you understand how  _bad_  it would be if this village suddenly got it into their heads that I was a bloody Russian spy! This isn’t London, Sirius, it’s  _bloody Wales._ ”

“Alright, alright!” said Sirius, raising his hands in surrender. “What question?”

Rose had a twinkle in her eye. Her heart was thudding. “You asked me why you don’t see me that often in the Gryffindor common room.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m not in Gryffindor,” she said. She found it funny how, though she had fretted over the words so many times the previous evening, they rolled easily off her tongue. “I’m in Slytherin.”

***

“Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

With that, Professor McGonagall left the chamber. Rose let out a sigh of relief, retrieving Cat from her pocket. Remus watched her disapprovingly. She grinned.

“Do you think she has that learned off by heart?”

Remus shrugged. “Highly possible.”

Rose eyed him up and down. “You look queasy.”

“Yeah, well,” said Remus quietly. “I am.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright!” Rose rubbed his arm in an attempt at comfort. “It’s only the sorting ceremony. Even if we get separated, we can still be friends.”

“What if I don’t get sorted at all?”

Rose looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“What if it’s all just some big misunderstanding and they have to send me home?”

“Huh,” she said thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought about that… Probably because it won’t happen.”

Remus smiled slightly, still nervous. Rose tapped him on the nose.

“What was that?” asked Remus, rubbing the end of his nose in confusion.

“It was a boop.”

“A boop?”

“A boop!” she said happily. “My dad always boops my nose when I’m crying. Cheers you up. You can’t be unhappy once you’ve been booped.”

Remus let out a small laugh, and Rose felt a swell of pride that she had helped.

The door to the chamber opened and McGonagall returned. Remus’ face immediately dropped. “Form a line and follow me,” she said, leading the way to the Great Hall. Rose quickly bundled Cat back onto her pocket, squeezing Remus’ hand as she filed behind him. There were several audible gasps as the new First Years took in the enchanted ceiling and the sheer size of the Great Hall, including the number of people watching them. McGonagall brought out a stool and what appeared to be a rather shabby old wizards’ hat.  _The Sorting Hat_.

The Sorting Hat began to sing along, but Rose was too busy taking in her surroundings to truly listen. She looked up at the ceiling and tried to count all the stars that were twinkling down at her. She looked at the four long tables in the Great Hall, one for each house, and the high table where all the teachers sat. She even looked at her fellow First Years: James, Sirius and Peter were stood a little way to her left; the girl with red hair and Severus to her right; and Remus by her side. Rose stared at the boy. Now she looked closer at him, his eyes firmly fixed in the Sorting Hat, she could see how tired he looked. The pale, peak colour of his skin made the scars stand out even more. She wondered not for the first time how he got them.

The Sorting Hat finished its song to loud applause, and Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Black, Sirius!”

Sirius hurried to the stool and put on the Sorting Hat. Rose noticed he seemed less confident than he had on the train. There was a short pause where the Sorting Hat was considering, and then –

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius looked both terrified and thrilled. He happily bounded over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. James was watching him enviously.

A few more people passed by, then:

“Evans, Lily!”

The redhead bounded up to the stool and put on the hat.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

 “Lupin, Remus!”

Remus gulped. Rose nudged him forward, an encouraging smile on her face despite her own misgivings. The hat was on his head barely ten seconds before it shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Rose cheered as loudly as she could. Remus looked the happiest she’d ever seen him as he sat down opposite Sirius Black. “See, I told you everything would be fine,” she said, even though he couldn’t hear.

“Thank you, Rose,” he whispered to himself, though he knew she couldn’t hear.

“Nice going, Remus,” said Sirius smiling. Remus looked shocked that Sirius remembered him, but he quickly muttered his thanks.

“Pettigrew, Peter!”

Peter took a fairly long time to be sorted. Eventually the Hat decided on Gryffindor, and Peter sat next to Remus. Potter was next. He was the only one out of the group who seemed supremely confident in himself, and for good reason – the hat had barely touched his head before it shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

With a smug look on his face, he took his seat next to Sirius. He winked at Lily, who turned away, disgusted. James shrugged, but he seemed annoyed.

“Prewett, Rose!”

Rose steeled herself and walked to the front; if Remus could be brave, then so could she. McGonagall shot her a disapproving look when she saw the little ginger kitten poke his head out of her pocket.

Rose held her breath as the brim of the hat fell over her eyes.

“Well, well, well,” said a small voice in her ear. “What do we have hear? Another Prewett! Interesting…”

There was a small pause. Rose wasn’t sure what to say to the Hat, or whether she should say anything. She was also worried that if she did say something, she would somehow say the wrong thing.

“Ooh, a tentative one here! Not like your brothers at all. However, your family does lend itself rather naturally towards Gryffindor. Still, I’ve already broken familial bonds once tonight – why not again? But if that’s the case, where to put you? Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff?”

 _Put me with Remus_ , said Rose’s inside voice.  _If you can’t decide, then put me with my friends_.

“Hmmm,” said the Sorting Hat. “I don’t often do this sort of thing, but I’m going to override you. I think this is the where you truly belong… SLYTHERIN!”

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. Rose blinked a few times before taking off the hat and half-running to her table and plonking herself in between two prefects, a white-blond boy and a dark-haired girl with kind eyes.

“Well done,” said the girl, giving Rose a warm smile. “Although it took you ages! I think you might class as a hatstall… Haven’t had one of those since McGonagall! I’m Andy, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Andy.” Rose almost told her that she had asked to be in Gryffindor, but decided against it – it would be her secret.

“Do you play Quidditch?” asked the boy, clearly bored. “We could use a good seeker.”

Andy rolled her eyes. “Lucius is a bit of an idiot, but he’ll grow into you.” Rose grimaced as though she didn’t think this was the case.

“Snape, Severus!”

James and Sirius sniggered – Lily sent them a dirty look.

“SLYTHERIN!”

The boy with greasy hair that she had seen on the train made his way over to her table, though Rose notice he looked forlornly back at the red head in Gryffindor. By coincidence, he sat in between Lucius and Rose.

“Hi,” she said after a while, compelled to speak. “I’m Rose.”

He gave her a suspicious look, but there must have been something in her eyes that made him trust her. “Severus.”

They shook hands, and Rose felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. At least she knew someone in her year now in her house. Perhaps they could be friends. Still, she couldn’t help but glance over at the Gryffindor table, where she noticed Remus was looking at her too. She waved, and he waved back, if a little sadly. She knew they both wished this wasn’t how it had to be.

 _Even if we get separated, we can still be friends._ She clung to her own words, hoping that was still the case.

“So Severus,” she said brightly, focusing on the positives. “Where are you from?”


	7. Meeting Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1991**

“Hagrid!” Rose hissed, but it was too late. The giant lifted his great fist and brought it down again upon the frail, wooden door.

 _BOOM._ She was surprised it didn’t fall.

“Where’s the canon?” came a sleepy sounding voice from inside of the shack. Rose wondered if it was Harry or Dudley.

“Who’s there?” Another voice. Definitely Vernon this time. “I warn you – I’m armed!”

Hagrid and Rose shared a wary look, before Hagrid turned back to the door. “One last knock should do it,” he murmured to himself, raising his hand.

_SMASH!_

This time the door did come off its hinges, falling to the ground with a large crash and sending a cloud of dust up into the doorway. Hagrid stepped aside to let her through, but Rose shook her head and gestured that he should go first. She thought it would be rather an anti-climax for the Dursleys if she were to claim that particular entrance.

Hagrid squeezed himself into the hut and Rose followed suit, retrieving her wand from her coat pocket and immediately pointing it at Mr Dursley when she saw that he was holding a shotgun. The four adults eyed each other up for a few moments before Rose chose to break the silence.

“Petunia,” she said pleasantly, her wand still trained on the space between Mr Dursley’s eyes. “Vernon.”

“E – Eleanor?” Petunia managed to choke out, her eyes bulging. “What are you doing here?”

Hagrid shot her a questioning look. “Eleanor?”

“An undercover name,” she explained to the giant, relishing in the horror that spread over Petunia’s face.

Petunia shuffled closer to her husband. “Is that a –” She couldn’t finish the question. “What do you mean, undercover name? You’re my neighbour.”

“Yes, I am your neighbour,” said Rose tersely, bored with how long this explanation was taking. She brandished her wand. “And yes, this is what you think it is. Allow me to introduce myself to you properly – my name is Rose. Rose Prewett. You may not remember me, but I was good friends with your sister.”

What little colour was still in Petunia’s face drained away, and Rose noticed a faint flicker of recognition in her eyes, though it quickly disappeared. “You  _lied_  to us.”

“Yes,” said Rose brightly. “Very sorry. Needs must, I’m sure you understand.”

There was another small silence, the two horrified Dursleys like statues, frozen in disgust. For the first time, Rose noticed Dudley cowering on a sofa in the corner, and not far away –  _Harry._  She had never seen him close up before now, and she was struck by just how much he looked like James. A lump began to form in her throat.

“Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey…” said Hagrid. The tension in the room ebbed slightly. Without any kind of caution, Hagrid made his way over to the sofa where Dudley was curled up in fright.

“Budge up, yeh great lump,” he said, and Dudley dutifully scrambled away and ran to hide behind his parents. Rose frowned.

“Hagrid…”

“Sorry, Rose,” said Hagrid sheepishly, although she noticed he didn’t give up the sofa. Instead, he lay back and made himself comfortable. “An’ here’s Harry!”

Harry looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said Hagrid, not without a tinge of sadness. “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.”

“Hagrid!” said Rose, more firmly this time. “Give the poor boy some space!”

In the few seconds that Rose’s attention was diverted, Vernon seemed to have gained a little confidence. He let out a small, strained noise.

“I demand you two leave at once!” he said stiffly, a vein in his neck throbbing. “You are breaking and entering!”

“Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune.”

This time Rose didn’t bother to correct Hagrid. “Well said.”

With what he saw as permission, Hagrid stood and walked over to Mr Dursley, taking the shotgun into his hand and tying it into a knot as though it were string. He threw it into the far corner of the room. Rose couldn’t help but inwardly snigger at the look on Vernon’s face.

Hagrid turned back to Harry. “Anyway – Harry – a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste alright.”

He produced a squished box from his coat and handed it to the small boy. Harry lifted the lid; inside was a chocolate cake with  _Happy Birthday Harry_  scrawled on the top in green icing. Rose felt her stomach drop – it was his birthday! How could she have forgotten? She didn’t have a thing to give him. But, then again, was it right for her to give him anything? She was his teacher now, after all. She barely knew him.

_Still… it’s James and Lily’s son._

“Who are you?” said Harry suddenly, breaking Rose out of her thoughts. He was staring, confused, at the giant in front of him.

Hagrid laughed. “True, we haven’t introduced ourselves. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. And you know who this is, o’ course.”

The giant gestured back to Rose, who smiled politely. She wanted to run over and give him a great big hug, but she thought that would be intensely inappropriate.

Harry nodded, his face solemn. “That’s Ms. Prewett. She’s my neighbour.”

“Ah, she’s more than that Harry!” said Hagrid jovially. “She’s your –”

Thankfully, at that moment Hagrid caught sight of Rose in the corner of his eye, who was shaking her head in small, frantic movements.

“ – professor,” he finished, catching himself just in time.

“Nice to meet you at last, Harry,” said Rose calmly, incredibly relieved. Harry nodded again, a small smile on his face that quickly disappeared.

“What about that tea then, eh?” said Hagrid, keen to move the conversation away from the topic at hand. “I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”

“Again, Hagrid, we are here to  _work_ ,” said Rose, alarmed at how much she sounded like her father. Deciding that Vernon wasn’t much threat without his shotgun, Rose stowed her wand back in her pocket. However, noticing that Vernon puffed out his chest a little as she did, she gave him a look that said quite clearly, _out of sight, not out of mind_. Meanwhile, Hagrid was leaning over the fire grate, and he stepped back a few moments later to reveal a roaring fire where there had once been just empty crisp packets. Rose knew that he shouldn’t  _strictly_  be using magic, but her reprimand died in her throat once he produced a packet of sausages from his coat and she remembered that she hadn’t yet eaten dinner. She also didn’t have the energy to stop him taking a quick sip of firewhiskey before he got on with boiling the kettle.

“Don’t touch anything they give you, Dudley,” said Vernon pompously as Hagrid finished cooking the sausages.

“Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ any more, Dursley, don’ worry.”

“Hagrid!” Rose said tersely, gratefully taking the cup of tea and sausage that the giant handed her. “I won’t say it again! I’ll just silence you!”

She realised that must have sounded incredibly threatening to those in the room who didn’t know the  _silencio_  charm existed, and she noticed that Harry’s eyes widened in alarm. Hagrid just chuckled slightly.

“I see yeh haven’t changed a bit since you were at school.”

The two adults were interrupted from their bickering by a quiet clearing of the throat. They turned around to see Harry watching them carefully, his sausage already finished.

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”

Rose wasn’t quite sure what to say to the boy – how exactly to explain? Luckily, Hagrid came to her rescue.

“Call me Hagrid, everyone does. And like I told yeh, I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts, and Professor Prewett teaches History o’ Magic there – yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.”

Harry blinked. “Er – no.”

“Hagrid, can I talk to you outside?” said Rose quickly, only just now realising that Hagrid wasn’t fully informed of the situation. Sadly for her, the giant was too shocked to register what she had said.

“Sorry,” said Harry, concerned by the reaction he was getting.

“ _Sorry?_ ” Hagrid barked, standing up suddenly. Harry wasn’t the only one shocked this time – Rose found herself taking a few, sharp steps back before she got a hold of herself. She had never seen Hagrid angry before.

“Hagrid –” she started, but was almost immediately interrupted.

“It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t getting’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all? Where Rose learnt it all?”

Harry looked quizzically at the giant. “All what?”

“ALL WHAT?”

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose, setting down her cup of tea.

“Now wait jus’ one second!” He swivelled round to glare at the Dursleys, who cowered in response. “Do you mean ter tell me that this boy – this boy! – knows nothin’ abou’ – abou’ ANYTHING?”

“I know some things,” Harry interjected, looking mildly offended. “I can, you know, do maths and stuff.”

“Of course you can, Harry,” said Rose soothingly, moving to stand closer to the boy and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “What Hagrid means is that you don’t know anything about  _our_ world.”

Harry didn’t pull away from her hand, but he didn’t seem comforted either. “What world?”

Hagrid looked as though he were about to have an aneurysm. “DURSLEY!”

Mr Dursley made a squeaking sound. The giant ran a hand through his wild hair, looking quite lost.

“But yeh must know about yer mum and dad. I mean, they’re  _famous. You’re_ famous.”

“ _Hagrid_ , this really isn’t the way to start all of this –”

“What? My – my mum and dad weren’t famous, were they?”

Hagrid’s face blanched. “Yeh don’ know… yeh don’ know… yeh don’ know what yeh are?”

“Hagrid, that is enough!” said Rose finally, her famous Prewett temper flaring. “This is  _not_  the way we should do this! Harry doesn’t need to know about being famous before he needs to know about – oh, I don’t know – his mother’s maiden name!”

“Stop!” Mr Dursley seemed to have located his spine and stepped forward into the conversation. “Stop right there! I forbid either of you to tell the boy anything!”

“You never told him?” Hagrid was trembling with fury. “Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An’ you’ve kept it from him all these years?”

“Kept  _what_  from me?” said Harry, his frustration increasing.

“STOP! I FORBID YOU!” howled Mr Dursley, causing Petunia to gasp.

Hagrid’s eyes filled with rage, but this time it was him who got interrupted. Hearing Mr Dursley speak up seemed to have set Rose’s blood boiling.

“How  _dare_  you!” she snarled, red hair blazing as she stomped over to where the older man stood, drawing her wand and pointing it at his throat. “How  _dare_ you presume to tell us what to do! May I remind you that while you were sat on your arse daydreaming about  _drills_  of all things, we were fighting a  _war_! A bloody war! Have you ever fought in a war, Vernon?” His silence spoke volumes. “I thought not. A man like you wouldn’t last  _two seconds_  against horrors like that. So don’t you come in presuming to be giving us orders – I’ve had enough of those in my lifetime!”

There was an uncomfortable silence after that. The red began to fade from Rose’s vision, and she was able to think clearly again, slightly ashamed of her outburst. She quickly lowered her wand, but kept it by her side, in case she should need it again. Harry was watching her with barely concealed awe.

Petunia bristled. “How  _dare_  you speak to my husband that way –”

“Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” said Hagrid, cutting her off before she could begin. “Harry – yer a wizard.”

It was as though a barrier had been shattered. No one said anything. They were all waiting, as though on the edge of a cliff, for Harry’s response.

“I’m a  _what?_ ”

“A wizard, o’ course,” said Hagrid, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He sat back down on the sofa and it groaned in response. “An’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.”

He produced an envelope of thick, yellow parchment and handed it over to Harry. Rose took note of the eagerness in her godson’s expression as he ripped into it and his eyes began devouring the contents. While he did so, Rose picked up her cup of tea again. It was slightly cold, so she tapped it on the side with her wand. She noticed Harry watching her as she did so, though he quickly looked away.

After a few moments, he spoke. “What does it mean, they await my owl?”

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,” said Hagrid, and reached into his coat, producing from one of its many pockets an owl. Rose just shook her head in disbelief as he then procured a scrap of parchment, a quill and ink. She assumed he was writing to Dumbledore, but she thought that in the meantime she would explain to Harry.

“Owls are how we send our post.”

Harry cocked his head to one side. “We?”

“Witches and wizards. Owls are sort of like our postmen, if you will.”

Harry didn’t seem any less confused, but he smiled in thanks.

Hagrid gave the letter to the owl, walked over to the window, and threw the bird out into the storm. Then, he returned to the sofa and slapped his hands on his knees. “Where was I?”

But it seemed Mr Dursley didn’t approve of the relative calm. “He’s not going.”

“With the greatest respect, Vernon, it’s not your decision to make,” said Rose coldly.

Hagrid snorted. “Yeah, an’ I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him.”

“A what?” said Harry, piping up again.

“A Muggle. It’s what we call non-magic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.”

Mr Dursley looked about ready to have a fit. “We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish, swore we’d stamp it out of him! Wizard, indeed!”

“You  _knew_?” said Harry. “You  _knew_  I’m a – a wizard?”

This comment – and perhaps all the comments before it – seemed to tip Petunia over the edge. “Knew!  _Knew!_  Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared of to that – that  _school_  – and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog-spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family! Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as – as –  _abnormal_  – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!”

The silence that followed was deeply uncomfortable, but Rose couldn’t help but comment: “Well, I suppose you win rant of the night, Petunia, well done.”

Petunia gave her a withering look.

“Blown up?” said Harry, with the most anger that Rose had seen from him that evening. “You told me they died in a car crash!”

“A CAR CRASH?” Hagrid was on his feet once again. Rose couldn’t help but think that if he kept losing his temper she might have to stun him.  _Was it possible to stun a giant with just one stunning spell?_  “How could a car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin’ his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!”

“But why?” asked Harry, jumping up. “What happened?”

Hagrid’s eyes flickered nervously over to Rose, before falling back to Harry. “I never expected this,” he said quietly, worry etched into his face. “I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Ah, Harry, I don’t know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh…”

“It’s alright Hagrid,” said Rose suddenly, a sense of duty washing over her, which then turned into resignation. “I’ll do it.”

Hagrid paused, wary, but then gestured for her to take over. Rose walked over with a quiet determination to where her godson was stood and crouched down so that they were eye to eye. “It started,” she said softly, trying not to get too emotional as she looked into his eyes that looked just like Lily’s, “with a man called Voldemort.”

Hagrid flinched, “Ah, don’ say the name…”

She shot the giant an apologetic look. “Sorry, Hagrid, but needs must… You should know, Harry, that in our world, we don’t like to say his name, so try not to repeat it.”

Harry nodded solemnly, though he couldn’t help but ask, “Why not?”

“Because it scares people. To hear his name. We call him You-Know-Who instead. Do you remember when I said that we fought in a war earlier?”

Harry nodded again.

“It was a war against him. You see, You-Know-Who practiced Dark Magic – it made him evil. But what made things worse was that he decided that just being a dark wizard wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to start a war, and he encouraged all these other people to join him. If you wouldn’t join him, he would murder you. It was a terrible time, but a group of us decided to fight him, led by a man called Albus Dumbledore.”

“The headmaster of Hogwarts?” Harry interjected.

Rose smiled. “That’s right. But it was impossible – we couldn’t seem to win, no matter what we did. By we, I mean myself and Hagrid… and your parents.”

She paused to let him take it in. “And Christopher’s father?” he said eventually.

Her stomach lurched at the question, but she knew he didn’t mean to be rude. After all, he didn’t know. “Yes, and Christopher’s father. But he died. In the war. That’s why he’s not around anymore.”

Hagrid pulled a confused expression at the lie, but didn’t correct her. Rose felt bad leading Harry astray, but she thought, in this case, a white lie was better than the truth.

“Oh,” said Harry, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be – it was a long time ago. Now, your parents were incredibly gifted witches and wizards – Head Boy and Head Girl at Hogwarts. You-Know-Who tried to recruit them, but they refused. So he went to the house where your parents were living, on Hallowe’en night, and he –” She took a deep breath. “– and he killed them. And he tried to kill you, but for some reason, he couldn’t. The spell backfired and killed him instead. That’s what that scar is on your forehead, it’s where the curse hit you. You, little one-year-old Harry Potter, managed to defeat the greatest dark wizard of our time.  _That_  is why you are famous. No one ever survived once he decided to kill them – not the McKinnons, not the Bones, not even my brothers – except you.”

Her godson had fallen quiet, and there was a painful look in his eye. Hagrid was sniffing loudly, dabbing his eyes with a red spotted handkerchief.

“Took yeh from the ruined house myself,” he said sadly, “on Dumbledore’s orders. Took yeh ter this lot.”

“Load of old tosh,” said Mr Dursley suddenly, causing them all to jump. It had been so long since any of the Dursleys had spoken that just the realisation they were still there was a shock. “Now you listen here, boy. I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured – and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world’s better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they’d come to a sticky end –”

Rose reached for her wand, but it turned out there was no need; Hagrid was already inches away from Mr Dursley, brandishing his pink umbrella which Rose suspected contained the broken halves of his own wand.

“I’m warning you, Dursley – I’m warning you – one more word…”

This was enough to curb Mr Dursley’s newfound bravery for a while – he scuttled back into the corner where his family where still hiding.

“That’s better.” Hagrid returned to the sofa.

Harry gently tapped on Rose’s shoulder, turning her attention back to him. “But what happened to Vol – sorry – I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Good question, Harry,” she said brightly, trying to alleviate the tension. “Personally, I believe he died.”

Hagrid shook his head. “Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe that either. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of ‘em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back.

“Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin’ goin’ on that night that he hadn’t counted on –  _I_ dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin’ about you stumped him, alright.”

Hagrid beamed at the boy; Harry simply looked concerned.

“Hagrid,” he said slowly. “Professor Prewett… I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.”

Neither Hagrid nor Rose could help laughing a little, despite themselves. Harry looked quite gone out.

“Not a wizard, eh?” said Hagrid, his eyebrow raised. “Never made things happen when you was scared, or angry?”

Realisation was dawning in Harry’s eyes, and after a while he beamed at the two adults.

Hagrid shook his head. “See? Harry Potter, not a wizard – you wait, you’ll be right famous at Hogwarts.”

This once again seemed to trigger Mr Dursley, who stepped forward – Rose had to hand it to him, he was stubborn as an ox. It wasn’t a compliment.

“Haven’t I told you he’s not going? He’s going to Stonewall High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sort of rubbish – spell books and wands and –”

“If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” said Hagrid darkly. “Stop Lily an’ James Potter’s son goin’ ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name’s been down ever since he was born. He’s off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won’t know himself. He’ll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an’ he’ll be under the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled –”

“I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!” yelled Vernon.

That was the last straw for Hagrid and he grabbed his umbrella, wielding it over his head. “NEVER – INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!”

Hagrid brought the umbrella down in front of Mr Dursley. There was a loud crack, a burst of violet light, and suddenly Dudley was jumping down, holding his bottom. His hands slipped slightly and Rose saw a pig’s tail poking out from between his fingers.

“HAGRID!” screamed Rose, appalled that he would do such a thing to a child, a Muggle child at that, even if it was in temper. She pulled out her wand to try and fix what had happened, but it was too late – the Dursleys had already run into the other room and slammed the door, not without a few howls of indignation. There was a vein twitching angrily on Rose’s temple.

Hagrid stroked his beard ruefully. “Shouldn’ta lost me temper.”

“No you shouldn’t have!” Rose snapped. “How in the name of  _Merlin_  am I supposed to fix this!” She walked over to the door and knocked. “Petunia? Petunia, let me help!”

Silence. Rose stomped back over to where the giant and Harry were stood and glared up at Hagrid. She may only have been five foot four, but she could still be very intimidating when she wanted to be, and Hagrid eyed her warily.

“From now on,” she hissed, “I do the magic. Do you understand?”

Hagrid nodded his assent. Rose let out a long deep breath before pacing back to the door, shaking her head.

“Didn’t work anyway,” she head Hagrid whisper to Harry when he thought she couldn’t hear him. “Meant to turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn’t much left ter do.”

“I think that’s enough chatting for tonight, don’t you Hagrid?” said Rose dryly. “It must be two in the morning by now – Harry will be exhausted.”

“No, I’m fi –” Harry began, but then saw the look on Rose’s face. “Yes, very tired.”

“You take the sofa Hagrid – I’ll conjure Harry and I some beds…”

As she set about transfiguring the few mouldy blankets the Dursleys had provided into a quaint pair of twin beds, she overheard Hagrid say to Harry, “Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I’m – er – not supposed to do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an’ get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff – one o’ the reasons I was keen ter take on the job.”

The beds had taken shape – they looked very comfortable. Rose took off her coat, blazer and shoes, but kept her wand by her side as she climbed under the blankets of the bed on the right. “Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” asked Harry as he followed her lead and climbed into the other.

Hagrid awkwardly avoided eye contact with the boy as he made his way to the sofa. “Oh, well – I was at Hogwarts meself, but I – er – got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.”

“Why were you expelled?”

“When I said we needed to get to sleep, I meant it!” said Rose loudly, distracting Harry from his question. Hagrid smiled in thanks. “Goodnight, both of you!”

“Goodnight, Ms Prewett.”

“’Night, Rose.”

After that, it was quiet. Just the sound of the crackling fire and the crashing waves to lull her to sleep, though Rose tried not to hear the second. All in all, things had gone rather well she thought, despite the pig’s tail. Hopefully tomorrow she might be allowed to fix that. Either way, she was sure that Diagon Alley would be eventful, if that night had been anything of an indication.


	8. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1973**

“A Slytherin.”

Remus sighed as he scraped some more mint chocolate chip ice cream off his ice cream cone and spooned it into his mouth with the tiny plastic spatula. “Sirius, get over it.”

“How am I supposed to get over it?” said Sirius with more drama that was necessary. “She’s a  _Slytherin_. Who is friends with  _Snivellous_.”

Remus rolled his eyes and hoped that Rose couldn’t hear them from where she was crouched over the rock pool a few feet away, scouring for sea life. Luckily, she seemed much too absorbed watching the little hermit crabs and licking her own rum and raisin ice cream to notice what the two boys were talking about over on the grassy bank.

“She’s also my  _friend_.”

Sirius glared at him. “Do you really need a friend that’s friends with Snivellous? Are we not enough for you?”

Sirius didn’t need to elaborate for Remus to understand that by  _we_  he meant  _Sirius, James and Peter_.

“I mean, Good Godric Remus, what if she’s friends with  _Regulus?_ ”

Remus hesitated slightly in scooping up another spatula, which was enough to confirm Sirius’ deepest fears.

“She’s friends with Regulus!” He threw up his free hand in disgust. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Stop being overdramatic.”

“I’m not being overdramatic. I’m being in tune with my emotions. And my emotions are telling me this is the worst day of my life.”

“Then your emotions are overdramatic.” Remus looked up at his dark-haired friend, who was staring at him accusingly. “Eat your ice cream, it’s melting all over your hand.”

For the first time, Sirius noticed the raspberry ripple running down his arm, and groaned. “Oh, that is  _disgusting_.”

“Yeah, I know. Finish the ice cream and then you can wash off your hand in the sea.”

Sirius grimaced as he desperately began licking his remaining ice cream to prevent it from melting any more. “This day just gets worse and worse.”

As disgusting as the melting ice cream was, it did quieten Sirius for a while, which to Remus was a much needed relief. The fair-haired boy looked out into the horizon, simply enjoying the way that the late afternoon sun was reflecting off the rough Welsh sea, before Sirius crunched through his wafer cone obnoxiously loudly and ruined the serenity of the moment.

“You are the worst,” Remus said in a deadpan voice, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t need to turn to his right to know that Sirius was sticking his tongue out.

“No –  _you_  are the worst. You’re the one who befriended a traitor. And you eat your ice cream with a  _spoon_ , which I genuinely believe is the sign of a madman.”

“Rose is not a traitor!”

“Yes she is, and James will agree with me!”

A cold sweat descended on Remus suddenly, and his usual sarcastic manner flew out of the proverbial window. “Sirius, you cannot tell James.”

Sirius, who was finishing his last mouthful of wafer cone, swallowed and shot his friend a suspicious look. “Why…?”

“Because he’s not as understanding as you are,” Remus said quickly, “which is saying something considering how badly you’re handling this right now.”

“Oh, come on Remus,” said Sirius, his tone serious for once. “James is perfectly trustworthy…”

“I mean it, Sirius,” said Remus pleadingly, grabbing his friend’s arm so he knew it was serious. “You can’t say a  _thing_.”

Sirius frowned. “Fine, but for the record, I think you’re making a mistake. I mean, Evans is friends with Snivellous, but he’s still obsessed with her.”

Remus scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, but Lily is a Gryffindor. And it’s different because he fancies her. He doesn’t fancy Rose.”

“Yeah,” replied Sirius, sniggering slightly. “Good thing too, otherwise that would be really problematic for you, now wouldn’t it?”

Remus blinked quickly. “What – what are you talking about? Rose and I are friends, that’s all…”

“Oh really?” said Sirius, grinning as he raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “So that’s why you’ve whisked her away on a romantic rendezvous to the Welsh coast then. Friendship.”

“This is not a – I am not –” spluttered Remus, turning a peculiar shade of crimson. “You know that’s not what this is!”

Sirius crossed his arms. “Do I?”

“Of course.”

“Alright – then what is it?”

Remus frowned, subconsciously digging his hand free hand into the grass next to him and ripping it out in small, tense movements. “It’s… it’s just friendship, alright? Just like I’m friends with Lily.”

Sirius snorted. “I hope not, or James might actually kill you.” The dark-haired boy glanced at Remus’ fist, still clenched around the ground between them, and sighed. “Come on, let’s go down to the sea so I can wash my hands, and on the way there you can tell me how exactly you came to meet Rose, and why the hell you haven’t introduced us to her sooner.”

“If that’s what you want,” said Remus warily, following Sirius’ lead and standing up. The two of them slid over the sand dunes as they made their way down the hill to the sea, making sure to still stay out of earshot of Rose. “But I’m warning you now, you won’t like my reasoning.”

“Your reasoning is fine by me, as long as it’s reasonable.”

“That was seriously bad.”

“I think you mean Siriusly.”

“I think you need to stop making these jokes if you want me to tell the story.”

“Fine, fine…” said Sirius, bending over to wash his arm in the cold waves. “So where did you meet her?”

Remus couldn’t help the small, goofy smile that took over his face at the thought. Sirius rolled his eyes at the sight of it.  _Not in love indeed._

***

It was noisy in the Owlery. Remus did not like it there – it smelt terrible, and the birds were giving him suspicious looks from every direction, which was very unsettling – but this was where Rose had asked to meet him, and Remus didn’t like to question her logic. Instead, he occupied himself by pacing the length of the room until she arrived, panting, in the doorway. She was so late, in fact, that Remus had caught himself an admirer by the time she had arrived – a particularly small and fluffy barn owl was nibbling affectionately on the shoulder of his cloak. Rose would have laughed at how uncomfortable her friend looked at this new development had she not been in an uncommonly serious mood.

“There you are!” said Remus, distinctly relieved. He gently pried the owl’s beak off him, and returned it to its perch. The owl cooed softly as Remus gave it a quick head scratch in farewell, and watched rather forlornly as the tall boy walked away towards the redhead. “I was starting to think I was in the wrong place… what is this all about? Did you… is that the whole of Hogwarts library you’ve got under your arm? Exams are over now, you know – you can relax.”

The first-year Slytherin looked down at the books guiltily, careful to keep the titles obscured. “Yeah, sorry I’m late. I was actually fetching these – I want to talk to you about something.”

There was something very wrong, Remus could tell, but he didn’t say anything. Still, there was an awkwardness in her mannerisms – the jumpiness, and the jilting movements – that put him on edge. “Sure, well… talk away.”

Rose anxiously glanced over her shoulder – there was a Hufflepuff prefect climbing the Owlery stairs, a bundle of letters in his hand. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Can we go somewhere a little more… private?”

“Of course,” said Remus calmly, trying to put her at ease. He gestured that she should lead the way, and she did, rushing off at a pace that was quite unlike her. Remus felt almost out of breath from just trying to keep up by the time they had reached the Astronomy Tower.

“Here should be good…” Rose muttered, almost to herself, as she began to march up the spiral staircase, teetering slightly on the edge of the fourth step because the weight of the many books were pulling her off balance. Remus rushed to help her with them, but she quickly snatched them to her chest, giving him an almost frightened look. He held up his hands in surrender.

“Woah, woah, I’m sorry!” he said quickly, stepping back. “I was just going to help you carry them, but if you don’t need my help, then that’s fine…”

At this point, he was sure that something was wrong. Rose might have been facing him, but her actual line of sight seemed to be going through him. She was biting her lip and gripping the books so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. He wanted to shake her slightly, but her violent reaction to his previous attempts at touching her made him think that wasn’t the wisest idea at the current moment.

“Rose?”

“It’s fine!” she squeaked, hurriedly turning back towards the staircase and running away from him, until she’d disappeared around the central column. “Just follow me! I’ll explain at the top.”

“Are we even allowed up here out of class?” he called after her, but received no response. He supposed he would have to wait until he had caught up with her. Remus thought he might explode from all the tension before that point ever arrived, but dutifully followed on. When he finally reached the top, Rose was stood a little way away, her face drained and concerned, watching him as he approached her slowly. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. With trembling hands, she held out the pile of books to him at last, and the gold embossed title of the first book jumped out at him from across the space between them:  _A Study of Lycanthropes and How to Recognise Them._

Remus swallowed heavily. He could feel himself begin to sweat, though he forced himself to maintain his composure. He could not give anything away. For all he knew, this could have nothing to do with him. A terrible, horrifying coincidence.

“How did you get your hands on that?” he said quietly. His voice sounded hoarse, and it took a lot of effort to force the words out of his throat, but he still attempted to convey some kind of teasing in his tone. “I thought Pince had them all locked up in the restricted section.”

He knew this for a fact – it had been a safety measure once he’d come to Hogwarts. It had been Dumbledore’s idea.

“She did. I had Fabian and Gideon get them for me,” she replied, her expression deadly serious. “Told them it was for a little bedtime reading.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “And they believed you?”

Rose shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they? I’m a Slytherin, after all – that equals slightly disturbed in their books.”

Remus nodded, though he had stopped listening. There was a strange churning sensation happening in his stomach. “So why did you really want them?”

Rose gave him a furtive look before bending down and resting the pile of Lycanthrope related books on the ground. She then reached into her pocket and retrieved a scrunched up piece of parchment, which she proceeded to unfold and read from, aloud.

“ _Things that Remus is lying to me about._ ”

Remus felt his breath catch in his throat. Rose’s eyes flickered up to his for a second, trying to gauge his reaction, but soon looked back.

“ _One: Where he goes every month._

“ _Two: Where he got those scars._

“ _And Three: What his father does for a living._ ”

She took a deep breath and continued.

“ _Part One. Every month, he disappears to visit his mother in hospital. Only, his mother isn’t in hospital. St Mungo’s has no record of any Mrs Lupin, according to dad’s files, and although I have no conclusive evidence that she is not in a Muggle hospital, Remus told me she had dragon pox. If this is true, then she wouldn’t be in a Muggle hospital, because they wouldn’t know how to treat a wizarding illness. Also, he told me his mother was a Muggle herself – Muggles can’t catch dragon pox, so he is definitely lying about one thing or another. I theorise that Remus is leaving school for a different reason, one that occurs on a monthly basis._

“ _Part Two. Remus is scarred all over his face, and I can only assume all over his body too. Remus told me this was because of a freak accident where a dog attacked him, but I think this is a lie for two reasons. Firstly, Remus told me his father was a wizard, in which case, his father would know that scars from non-magical creatures can be easily healed with basic spells. Secondly, Remus has new scars every month, leading me to believe that these scars are linked to whatever he does every month._ ”

Remus could feel his throat closing up. Every part of his skin itched, like he was covered in some kind of rash. Underneath _A Study of Lycanthropes and How to Recognise Them_ , Remus could see a copy of  _The Odd Permanency of Lycanthropic Scars_  peeking out.

“ _Part Three. Remus told me his father worked for the Wizengamot as researcher. However, when I asked my father if he knew of a Lyall Lupin, he said that he had come into contact with him once or twice through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I asked for more details, and dad said that he couldn’t talk about cases outside of the court. After a bit of prodding though, he did mention that though it had something to do with werewolves. Then a funny look covered his face as he remembered more, and he said he wasn’t in a position to discuss it any further. So, again, I snuck into his files and did some research of my own, and I came to discover that Lyall Lupin left the Ministry years ago after the – after the b-brutal attack on his son._ ”

Her voice began to waver and her hands were trembling, but she carried on with a strange vehemence, as though she’d been dying to say all this for a long time.

“ _I then looked at the Werewolf Registry for confirmation of my suspicions, and found myself to be correct. I hereby conclude that Remus Lupin is a –_ ”

“Don’t,” hissed Remus suddenly, cutting her off. “Don’t say it.”

Rose opened her mouth slightly in shock, but then shut it. Instead of speaking, she crumpled up the piece of parchment and threw it to the ground. Before Remus could react, she reached into her cloak and whipped out her wand, pointing it directly at the parchment. “ _Incendio_.”

It burst into flame. They both watched in silence as the parchment collapsed into ash. Remus stared at her.

“I hope you know that what you’re saying is absolutely ridiculous,” he said, his lips pressed so tightly together in between words that they almost disappeared. “And not only is what you’re insinuating incredibly offensive, but it is also  _highly_  untrue.”

“Remus –”

“In fact – how dare you!” His voice was rising in volume now. “How dare you even suggest that I – that I would be –”

“How dare  _I_?” spat Rose, stepping forward so that she was directly in front of him. Remus resisted the urge to take a step backwards at the sight of her furious little face staring up at him. “How dare  _you_! You  _lied_  to me! You’re still lying to me! You put my  _life_  in danger just by  _being_  here! You put everyone’s life in danger! You’re a – a –”

“A what?”

It was a simple question, said in a simple manner. Somehow, it hit Rose harder than anything that had come before it.

Her silence didn’t seem to satisfy him. “A what, Rose? A monster?”

“I didn’t say that,” Rose said immediately, blushing. “I  _never_  said that.”

“You thought it. Is that why you’re confronting me? You want me to leave Hogwarts?” He paused, watching as Rose bit her lip in fear. “You’re afraid of me.”

That one wasn’t a question – it was a statement. Rose couldn’t deny it. She was  _terrified_  of him now. How could she not be? She’d been taught her whole life that werewolves were horrifying creatures of the night. And yet, here was one now, standing in front of her, an twelve-year-old boy, battered and scarred. Her friend. Not a monster.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes I am. But you’re still my friend.”

Remus scoffed. It was a violent noise and Rose winced at the sound of it.

“Ah, yes, of course. Because finding out I’m a monster won’t change a thing.”

“I’ve already said, Remus, I don’t think you’re a monster!”

“Then why not?” he yelled, causing Rose to physically jump back. She had never seen Remus angry before. “You should! I am a monster! And now you know, and you’ll tell everyone, and then I’ll have to go home to  _bloody_  Wales and spend the rest of my  _bloody_ life transforming into a  _bloody, horrifying_  –”

“Stop it!” she cried, her hands flying up to cover her ears. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

“It’s the truth, Rose! I can’t believe I  _ever_  thought that I could live a normal life. Someone like me shouldn’t even be in normal society! I’m going straight to Dumbledore – I’ll be out of Hogwarts by the morning.”

“No – Remus!” Rose’s eyes flew open just in time to see her friend storming off downstairs, his cloak billowing behind him. Without a second thought for the abandoned library books, she raced after him, but by the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, he had already vanished.

***

“Mum, my head hurts.”

Hope Lupin frowned and felt her son’s forehead. He was definitely running a fever, but there was nothing she could do. Remus knew this; there was nothing he could do either. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to make his mother feel bad, so he bit his lip instead and tried to cope with the pounding by stuffing his head into his pillow.

“I’m sorry my love,” she murmured, stroking his light brown hair. “Try to think about something happy.”

Remus tried, but happy memories were limited for him. He thought of the smell of books and hot chocolate, and the crackle of the living room fire when his father got back from work. He tried thinking of happy times with his parents, but most of those had happened when he was under five, and his memory was patchy to say the least. Nothing seemed to work.

“Mum?”

“Yes my love?” said Hope kindly, putting down the trousers she was darning and putting her hands on his.

“When I go to secondary school, will I get to stay at just one?”

Hope sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know, Remus. It depends how quickly people get suspicious. It’s unlikely that you’ll manage to keep it a secret for seven years.”

Remus felt his heart sink. “Why can’t I go to Hogwarts?”

“Remus, we’ve talked about this – the teachers don’t want to put the other students in danger by sending you there. You can’t expect them to, either.”

In a rare sign of rebellion, Remus pouted. “I would be careful…”

Hope looked at him sadly. “I know you would, sweetheart, but it’s just not worth the risk. Besides, they haven’t sent you a letter, which means they’re probably not going to offer you a place anyway.”

“But –”

“I said no!” snapped Hope, in an unusual burst of anger. “Now stop asking about it.”

Remus bit down on his retort, knowing it would get him nowhere. He decided to change his approach.

“Will I be allowed to have friends over at secondary school?”

Hope shifted in her chair, uncomfortable with the question. “We’ll see. I can’t promise anything, it’s up to your father.”

“When is dad coming home?”

“Soon. He’ll come and take you to the room. And talk to you until its time. Like usual.”

“Good,” said Remus. He suddenly felt very tired. “I love you, mum,” he whispered, his eyes closing.

“I love you too.”

***

A few hours later, Lyall Lupin entered his son’s bedroom. Hope put a finger to her lips to indicate that Remus was sleeping, and Lyall nodded and sat on the end of his bed. Remus shifted slightly, but didn’t wake.

“How was work?” whispered Hope. “You look tired.”

“Oh, the usual,” he murmured, smiling weakly. “Just worried about Remus.”

Hope bit her lip nervously. “Do you think it’s time to take him to the room?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Hope stood up, moving her newly darned clothes out of the way as Lyall picked up his son. Remus rubbed his eyes slowly, but he was too tired and ill to try to walk himself, so Lyall carried him to the room. Setting him on the pile of destroyed but frequently sewn back together cushions, Lyall sat down next to him and retrieved something from his pocket – it was a bar of Honeydukes chocolate.

“I had to make a trip to Diagon Alley, so I bought this for you.”

Remus tried to smile but he was too weak. Lyall, deciding that Remus needed his peace, began to stand, but Remus muttered, “Wait.”

Lyall dutifully sat back down. A few seconds after, Remus managed to force out a question.

“Am I a wizard?”

Lyall thought back to all the times that his son had displayed magical ability. “Yes, I think so,” he answered truthfully. “Well, you have magic in you.”

“And if I was allowed to go to Hogwarts, I would have been a great wizard?”

Lyall felt tears spring to his eyes, but he held them in for Remus’s sake. “You would be an amazing wizard; the best there ever was.”

Lyall waited for a reply, but it seemed that this time his son truly was asleep. Lyall placed a swift peck on his forehead and left the room, locking the door behind him. He then cast a few strong enchantments on the room so that the monster Remus would become would not escape.

He felt a soft hand on his arm, and he jumped, but relaxed when he saw it was Hope.

“Did he ask about Hogwarts again?”

Lyall nodded silently, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Hope wrapped her arms around his waist and Lyall inhaled the soft sent of peppermint that seemed to follow her around.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she whispered into his chest.

He breathed out heavily. “If only I could believe you.”

***

Remus was very ill again. The full moon was only two days away, but it was his birthday, and his parents were determined to spoil him to take his mind off it. It wasn’t working, but Remus was too kind to say that to them, so he sat playing with his cake, trying not to look too peaky.

Hope was busy mashing potatoes and Lyall was trying to help, but failing miserably. Remus’ father may have been a good wizard, but he had almost zero ability to manually peel vegetables.

There was a knock at the door. For most families, this would be a normal occurrence, perhaps even pleasurable depending on who the visitor was. For the Lupins, however, a visitor was a threat to Remus’ safety. Hope looked worryingly at her husband, who immediately dropped the peeler. Remus watched with faint curiosity as his father placed a comforting hand on his wife’s arm and went to answer the door.

“Who is it?” he wondered aloud, but his mother merely shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance.

“No one for you dear, I’m sure.”

A few moments later, Lyall returned, but his demeanour had completely changed.

“Remus, hide under the table. Hope – help me block the door and get rid of him.”

Who ‘him’ was, Remus wasn’t sure, but he was too afraid to ask, and obediently got under the table. He was expecting some kind of kerfuffle from his father’s reaction, but suddenly he heard a strange voice.

“It’s alright Remus, you can come out now.”

Remus peeked out from under the tablecloth and saw that his parents had returned with their visitor. Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the old man who was accompanying his father – it had been years since their parents had allowed anyone to see him at home, let alone when it was so close to a full moon.

“Remus,” said his father sternly, “this is Professor Dumbledore.”

“What’s going on?” he asked in a small voice. The old man smiled.

“Would you like to play a game of Gobstones?”

***

A little while later, although no one was quite sure how except for Dumbledore, Remus and the professor were playing Gobstones by the fire whist Hope and Lyall faffed around in the kitchen preparing crumpets. After presenting said crumpets to Dumbledore, who happily tucked in, Remus’ parents awkwardly sat on the sofa facing them and waited for the professor to say something. When they realised he was much too engrossed in the game of Gobstones to say anything, Lyall spoke up.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir?”

“Yes, Mr Lupin?” said Dumbledore happily, looking up briefly from the game. This was a mistake, as Remus took advantage of his distraction to capture one of his Gobstones. Dumbledore bravely faced defeat as Remus’ stone spouted a foul smelling liquid into his face. Remus giggled profusely as Dumbledore produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began whipping the gunk off his glasses, even though Lyall knew very well he could have used magic. “A very smart boy you have here. Very bright indeed.”

Remus blushed at the compliment. Lyall sent Hope a look, but she was too busy watching Dumbledore clean the rest of his face with mild fascination.

“Yes. Well. I was just wondering, sir, and – not to sound rude, but – what exactly are you doing here?”

Dumbledore didn’t reply straight away, focused as he was on getting his revenge on Remus. Hope flinched slightly as the gloop went straight into Remus’ hair, which he had washed only that morning. Remus, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying the company of a new acquaintance.

“To answer your question, Mr Lupin –”

“Please – call me Lyall.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Lyall. You may have heard that I have been awarded the position of headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“We read about it in The Prophet, yes.”

“I’m also aware that you do not intend to send Remus to Hogwarts at the end of the year due to his condition.”

Lyall turned the unique shade of cottage cheese. “H-How do you know about that?”

Dumbledore’s face darkened. “I have my sources among the Dark creatures; they told me a certain werewolf was bragging about an attack on a five-year-old boy. I assume I don’t need to go into what I learned, but sufficed to say I was horrified.”

Hope stood up quickly and headed into the kitchen, muttering some excuse about checking on dinner. She tried very hard to stay strong for Remus, but she couldn’t bear to think about what had happened.

Dumbledore didn’t comment, but paused in his story to allow her time to leave and to concentrate on his Gobstones. When Hope was clear out of earshot, Dumbledore spoke again.

“I understand that when you were at Hogwarts, and when I was just the Transfiguration professor, the school maintained the stigma against werewolves. I also understand that those stigmas are still incredibly prevalent today. But I wanted you to know that Remus has a place at Hogwarts if he wants it, and that, personally, I think he would be an asset to the school.”

Remus looked at Dumbledore in awe and then back at his father, the hope obvious on his face. Lyall swallowed heavily. He had not expected this scenario to ever occur. Hope, who had quietly been listening in from the kitchen, came back into the living room, a look of shock on her face.

“You… You want Remus to go to Hogwarts?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Of course. He’s bright, humble and he deserves a chance at the best magical education we can give him – although, of course, we will have to put in place safety precautions in place to protect the other students.”

“No!” said Hope loudly, causing the others to look at her. “No! I want my son where he’s safe – with me!”

“My love,” said Lyall in a soft voice, standing up and holding her hands in his, “supressing magical ability is incredibly dangerous. I can try and home school Remus, but the chances are I won’t do a good enough job. If Professor Dumbledore is willing to give him a place, then it’s the best option for him.”

“I want to go,” said Remus quietly, sending a pleading glance at his mother.

Hope sighed, and then crumpled onto the sofa, knowing that she was outvoted. “What safety precautions?”

Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Actually, I was thinking of planting a tree.”

***

“Miss Prewett, please look at me.”

Rose briefly made eye contact with the headmaster as she tilted her head up, but one look at the disappointment in his expression made her drop her eyes once more to the floor.

“Miss Prewett, in polite conversation, a certain level of acknowledgement needs to take place. I would appreciate it if you would look at me when I am speaking to you.”

A rather large lump forced its way into her throat, but deciding it was better not to keep ignoring him, Rose lifted her head to meet his gaze. If she hadn’t been so distraught, she might have noticed that it was not unkind. However, she was deeply upset, and so did not realise.

“There. That’s better. Now we can talk properly.” He adjusted his spectacles slightly before bringing his hands together and resting them, intertwined, on Professor Slughorn’s desk. “You asked Professor Slughorn if you might talk to me today… why exactly?”

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry. She swallowed.

“Please, take your time. We’re in no rush.”

He sounded sincere, and it gave Rose a little courage. She tried again.

“I… I came to say I know.”

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly towards his right side, feigning ignorance. “Know? About what in particular? I’m afraid you’ll find there’s an awful lot of things going on in Hogwarts that one might know about at any one time, so you might have to narrow it down.”

Rose blushed. “I know about Remus.”

Dumbledore made an  _ahhhh_  shape with his lips, though no sound came out. He was quiet for a moment. “Yes – now you mention it, Professor McGonagall did come to see me only moments before you, saying that she’d had a rather distressing meeting with Mr Lupin. In fact, had Professor Slughorn not asked that I would come and see you in his office the very next instant, you would have been summoned …”

Rose blinked rapidly. “You mean… you knew I knew?”

A ghost of a smile danced over Dumbledore’s lips. “That you knew about Mr Lupin’s condition? Yes, I was aware.”

“Then…” Rose scrunched up her nose in confusion. “Then why did you make me explain?”

“I wanted to see if you would admit to it,” said Dumbledore calmly, watching her intently over the rim of his glasses. “It takes a lot of courage to admit when you have done something perhaps less than kind… You understand why what you did was wrong, don’t you, Miss Prewett? That’s why you’re here.”

Rose nodded solemnly. She had thought of nothing else for the last half an hour. “I shouldn’t have confronted him like that. It was a horrible thing to do.”

“Now, now,” said Dumbledore gently, “no need to be too hard on yourself. From what Professor McGonagall was saying, I gather that you and Mr Lupin are rather close friends, so I doubt you acted out of intent to hurt. What you did, you did out of a sense of duty. You thought that I had allowed a student into the castle without knowing that he might put others and himself at risk.”

Rose nodded again. She felt unnerved – Dumbledore was a lot less angry than she had been expecting.

“Well, allow me to start by putting some of your concerns at ease. Yes, Mr Lupin is a werewolf. Yes, I and the rest of the staff have been aware of this from the very beginning. Yes, we have taken the necessary safety precautions to ensure that no other students are hurt when Mr Lupin transforms, however I will leave the details of those to your imagination. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good, good. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, I must commend you for figuring this out. Not many first-years are so astute. You must know Mr Lupin very well.”

Rose shrugged. She was still quite ashamed. Dumbledore scrutinised her for a while before continuing.

“As it stands, I don’t feel that a detention is necessary. This is, after all, more along the lines of a personal dispute, although I will in return need your absolute assurance that you will not breathe of word of this to anyone, not even your family and friends. No one must know but yourself, Mr Lupin, and the teachers. Mr Lupin’s happiness relies upon that.”

“I swear.”

There was a small silence. Professor Dumbledore frowned. “Miss Prewett, forgive me for intruding, but you do not seem to have been put at ease.”

Rose bit her lip, pulling at the sleeve of her cloak. “I feel awful. Remus will never forgive me.”

Dumbledore looked away from her for the first time and instead stared off into the middle distance, as though contemplating a great dilemma. “Perhaps. Or, perhaps he will realise that your heart was in the right place. After all, the fact that you are still interested in being friends with him at all is commendable in itself. Not many people would feel the same in your position. And, perhaps in a few months, Mr Lupin will discover that it is sometimes preferable to have friends within whom you can confide even your deepest secrets.”

“A few months?” Rose groaned. “That’s  _ages_ …”

Dumbledore really did smile this time. “To the young, yes, but it is best to let Mr Lupin come to you. Time heals all wounds, as the Muggles say. When he is ready, he will let you know.”

“Muggles only say that because they don’t know a thing about healing,” Rose muttered under her breath. She did not expect the headmaster to hear her, but he did, and let out a small chuckle.

“Indeed. Now, back to class Miss Prewett, or I shall have to dish out that detention that Professor McGonagall was pushing for.”

***

“So she knows – thank goodness.”

Remus let out a long, tense breath, his brow furrowed. “Yes, she knows. She was the first to know, in fact. Apart from the teachers, of course…”

Sirius stopped dead in his tracks. It took a few moments for Remus to notice that he had left his friend behind, too focused was he on Rose’s smiling face. She was beckoning them over to the rock pool, brandishing an off piece of driftwood she had found on the sand in triumph. When he finally did realise, Remus turned around to see that Sirius was shooting him an incredibly wounded look.

“What?”

Sirius crossed his arms. “You mean, I wasn’t the first?”

“What?” said Remus again, eager for them to catch up with Rose and annoyed at the delay. “Well, obviously.”

“Obviously!” huffed Sirius, pouting slightly. “I was under the impression that  _I_ was your first confidant with your furry little secret.”

“Number one,  _stop calling it that._  Number two, I never told you and the others – you all figured it out by yourselves, and then came to confront me at the same time. You should know this – you were there.”

Sirius waved a hand in dismissal, beginning to walk again. When he had reached Remus’ side, they walked together, matching strides. “Yeah, yeah, but  _really_  it was me. I did the legwork. James was just there to look pretty, and Peter… well, you could be a fully-fledged Yeti, and Peter wouldn’t notice a damn thing.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I think you’re doing James and Peter a disservice. And as I remember it, James was the one who did the actual confronting, so in my books, that puts him before you.”

Sirius shook his head dramatically. “Why must you constantly diminish our friendship in this way?”

Remus grinned. “What friendship?”

This earned him a playful punch on the shoulder. If Sirius had a snarky comment in return, he held it back as they approached the redhead, who was running towards them.

“Boys, look! It’s a jellyfish!”

“Fascinating,” Sirius drawled, but Remus noted that he allowed Rose to drag him by the hand to the edge of the rock pool, and listened patiently as she babbled about how unusual it was to see that  _particular_  species on the Welsh coastline. It seemed that his friend was coming round to the idea of befriending a Slytherin.

Remus smiled, allowing himself a small moment to consider that he was, in fact, happy, before joining them.

 

**_***Author's Note***_ **

**_Just a little bit of Lupin filler before our lovely third years go off to Hogwarts! A flashback within a flashback within a flashback within a flashback... because who said narratives need to be chronological to make sense??_ **

**_If you like my writing style and also Marvel or the Roman Mysteries series by Caroline Lawrence, please check out my other fics on my profile page! If you have any requests, please check out my Tumblr! (loony-loopy-luna.tumblr.com)_ **

**_Lots of love to everyone who reads, comments and leaves kudos - I adore you all!_ **

**_LoonyLoopyLuna xxx_ **


	9. Shops and School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1991**

Rose opened her eyes blearily as the light filtered through the small window into the shack. Dust particles floated by, illuminated by the early morning sun. Stifling a small yawn, Rose tilted her head slightly, so that she could see Harry’s mop of black hair, still snuggled into the bed next to her. She smiled to herself, glad to have him back under her protection at last.

Suddenly, breaking the silence of the scene, Rose heard some muttering coming from his side of the room.

“It was a dream,” he whispered to himself, unaware that Rose was listening. “I dreamt a giant called Hagrid and my next door neighbour came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.”

Rose felt a small pang in her chest – did he not want to come with them? Or was it just too good to be true in his mind? What did he mean by ‘cupboard’?

A small tapping sound distracted her from her thoughts. She looked up to see an owl waiting outside the window, knocking on the glass with its beak, two copies of the  _Daily Prophet_  in its beak. Rose jumped out of bed, vanishing it away with her wand once she was up, and dusted herself off. Her clothes were only slightly wrinkled thanks to a night spent sleeping in them. She wandered over to the window, putting her finger to her lips and silently shushing the owl, as though it would understand. It continued to tap, almost as if in defiance.

“And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door,” said Harry, still to himself. His eyes were still shut tight. The owl tapped again, with increasing agitation, as Rose tried and failed to open the window.

“No such luck, I’m afraid,” said Rose, deciding that if she didn’t disturb Harry, the owl would regardless. “Guess you’re stuck with us.”

Harry’s eyes flew open at the sound of her voice and after a few seconds he beamed. “It was real!”

Rose held back a small laugh at the joy on his face. “I’m afraid so – now, help me open this window, will you? It’s jammed shut.”

The boy dutifully ran to her side, and together they jimmied the window this way and that until, at last, it creaked open. The owl immediately flew inside and perched on the edge of the sofa. Rose bent over it and took the two newspapers from its beak, one for her and one for Hagrid, she assumed. She gently tucked Hagrid’s between his arm and the back of the sofa. The owl flew to the ground and began attacking the giant’s coat.

“Don’t do that,” said Harry in annoyance, trying to bat the owl off – it snapped at him and carried on. “Why is it doing that?”

“It wants his money – for the paper,” said Rose, tucking her own coins into the small pouch tied to the owl’s leg. The disturbance seemed to have woken Hagrid, who grunted in agreement.

“Look in the pockets.”

Harry bent over Hagrid’s coats and searched through all of the numerous pockets, coming across bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, mint humbugs and teabags before he came out with a handful of coins.

“Give him five knuts.”

“Knuts?” asked Harry. Rose lent over the coat and pointed to the small, bronze coins. Harry picked out five of them and put them in the owl’s pouch.

“Right,” said Rose firmly, standing up straight and patting Hagrid lightly on the arm. “Come on, Hagrid. We need to get to London if we want to get all of Harry’s  _and_  Christopher’s school shopping done today.”

“Right you are,” said Hagrid, biting back a yawn and easing himself up off the sofa. Meanwhile, Harry was turning the wizarding coins over in his hand, a glum expression on his face. Rose shot him a concerned look.

“Are you alright Harry?”

Harry frowned. “It’s just – I haven’t got any money – and you heard Uncle Vernon last night – he won’t pay for me to go and learn magic.”

Hagrid shook his head, tugging on his boots. “Don’t worry about that. D’yeh think yeh parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed –”

“They didn’t keep their money in their house, Harry,” said Rose kindly, vanishing his bed. “There’s a wizarding bank called Gringotts – that’s where we’ll take you first.”

“Have a sausage,” said Hagrid, interjecting. Rose put a hand up in polite decline as Hagrid tried to pass her the plate. “They’re not bad cold – an’ I wouldn’ say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”

“Wizards have  _banks_?” said Harry, not to be distracted.

Rose nodded. “Only one, and it’s run by goblins.”

Harry dropped his sausage. “ _Goblins_?”

“Yeah – so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry? Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – ‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” He puffed out his chest. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you – gettin’ things from Gringotts – know he can trust me, see.”

Rose rolled her eyes in amusement. “Yes, Hagrid. I am here too, remember.”

Hagrid blushed. Rose couldn’t help a little nosiness overcoming her when she tried to think of what sort of mission Dumbledore could have for the groundskeeper, but she didn’t try to pry. Instead, she held the door open for the two boys.

“Come on then – off to London!”

The three of them left the shack, without a second thought for the Dursleys in the other room – after all, they had been quite unwelcoming. Rose was surprised to see that Sirius’ motorbike was nowhere to be seen until Hagrid leaned over to her and said, under his breath, “A simple homebound charm – it’s back in me hut.”

Rose nodded. “Guess it’s the boat then – but how will the Dursleys get back?”

“That’s their problem,” said Hagrid, shrugging.

“How did you get here?” asked Harry, interrupting their hushed conversation.

Hagrid grinned. “Flew.”

“ _Flew?_ ”

“Yeah, but we’ll go back in this.” The giant gestured towards the little rowing boat. “Not s’pposed ter use magic now we’ve got yeh.”

The three of them clambered into the boat, just about squeezing in. Hagrid shot Rose a furtive look.

“Seems a shame to row, though…”

With a small sigh, Rose retrieved her wand from her pocket and tapped the side of the boat, and it immediately began speeding off towards the mainland. Hagrid leant back and began to read his copy of the  _Daily Prophet_. Rose had enough trouble with travel sickness as it was, so decided not to open hers.

Harry, unsurprisingly, still had some questions. “Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?”

“Spells – enchantments,” said Rose as Hagrid unfolded his newspaper. “The more imaginative of people say that there are dragons guarding the deepest, most secure vaults. And then there’s the fact that it’s just so  _vast_. Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, deep under the Underground. You’d die of hunger, even if you did manage to steal something.”

There was a pause in the conversation, although Rose could tell that Harry was dying to ask more questions. It was Hagrid who spoke first.

“Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual,” muttered the giant, turning his page.

“There’s a ministry of magic?” asked Harry.

“’Course,” said Hagrid. “They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin’ fer advice.”

“But what does a Ministry of magic  _do_?” asked Harry.

“Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.”

“Why?”

“ _Why_? Blimey, Harry, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.”

As soon as Hagrid had finished his sentence, they reached the mainland, and the three of them clambered out. After a short walk, they made it to a local town.

Rose couldn’t help but cringe slightly as she watched Hagrid interact with the Muggle world. Peak embarrassment hit when the giant gestured to a parking meter and said, “See that, you two? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?”

“Ms Prewett,” said Harry, panting a bit as they tried to keep up with Hagrid, “did you say there were  _dragons_  at Gringotts?”

“Well, so they say,” said Rose, frowning, “but you can’t believe all the rumours flying around. Speculation can be dangerous.”

“Crikey, I’d like a dragon,” said Hagrid longingly.

Harry looked at him aghast. “You’d  _like_  one?”

“Wanted one ever since I was a kid – here we go.”

After a few more minutes, they had reached the town station, and the board said that they should expect a train to London within the next few minutes. Aware that Hagrid wouldn’t know how to make heads nor tails of Muggle money, Rose took the lead in buying the tickets.

If Rose had thought walking through the high street was bad, the train was much worse – for one, Hagrid insisted on carrying on with his knitting, which just happened to be a canary yellow colour, not to mention the fact that he took up several seats.

“Now, you’ve still got your letter, haven’t you Harry?” she asked, trying to ignore the giant. Harry produced the envelope from inside of his pocket.

“Wonderful – that’s a list of everything we’ll need. Christopher will have one too, of course – he’s a wizard too, did I mention? Last night is such a blur… we’ll be meeting him in London.”

 “Can we buy all this in London?” asked Harry, his voice doubtful.

“If yeh know where to go,” said Hagrid.

***

Hagrid’s interactions with the Muggle world only got more ludicrous as he became stuck in one of the ticket barriers in the underground, having ignored Rose’s suggestion that he should perhaps go through one intended for commuters with large items of baggage.

“I don’t know how you managed without magic,” he muttered, beginning to climb a broken escalator before Rose pulled him over to the stairs.

“It’s a talent,” she replied dryly as Hagrid accidentally collided with a post box and left a large dent in its side.

Walking through London with a half-giant did part the sea of tourists and shoppers, so Rose felt unusually relaxed in the big city. Looking to her side, however, she noticed that Harry looked more confused than anything else. “You alright, there?”

Harry jumped at being addressed. “Yeah… it’s just… Ms Prewett, none of these shops look very… magical.”

Rose grinned. “Don’t you worry about that, Harry – in a few moments, you’ll be looking at a whole different street…”

Harry didn’t look any less confused, but he nodded dubiously.

“This is it,” said Hagrid as the came to stop in front of a nearby pub, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”

Rose’s godson didn’t say anything, but his expression was less than impressed. Rose bit back a laugh before gently guiding him inside, Hagrid close behind. The barman’s eyes lit up at the sight of them.

 “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping his great hands on Harry’s shoulders and making his knees buckle.

Rose glanced at her watch. “Christopher’s due any minute now, Hagrid – I’m going to wait by the fireplace, if you’re good alone with Harry?”

Hagrid nodded happily. “Ah, we’ll be fine. Go get your boy, and we’ll meet you in the alley out back?”

“Sounds good,” she replied, shooting Harry a quick smile before heading away from the bar and into the back room, where an ornate fireplace stood. She settled herself into a nearby armchair, resigned to the fact that her son would be late – the Weasley family never was very good at timekeeping. However, she had barely sat down before Robin stumbled out of the fireplace, dusting coal off his clothes.

“Where’s your aunt?” said Rose before he could even say hello. He rolled his eyes.

“She and Uncle Arthur decided that they’d come a little later – the twins broke a few dishes and now they have to degnome the garden. They said they’d meet you for coffee – around three?”

Rose groaned. “Well that’s inconvenient… but whatever, we’ll make it work. Hagrid will just have to get Harry home on his own.”

“Isn’t this better though?” said Robin slyly. “We wouldn’t want to  _overwhelm Harry_.”

He pulled a face that earned him a quick slap on the arm. “Listen, you – Harry is just over there in the other room, and whether you like it or not, he  _is_  very overwhelmed, and you need to be  _nice_.”

“Alright, alright!” he grumbled, rubbing his arm. “But don’t expect me to be  _warm._ I’d much rather be doing this with Ron…”

Rose bit back a retort and pushed him through the bar and into the small, dingy courtyard behind the building. Harry and Hagrid were already there waiting for them.

“Ah, there you are!” said Hagrid, beaming at her son. “Hullo Christopher!”

Robin sent the giant a pained smile, still mildly traumatised from their previous meeting. He and Harry shared a brief nod of acknowledgement.

“Anything exciting happen whilst we were gone?” asked Rose, removing her wand from her pocket and beginning to count bricks on the courtyard wall. Hagrid rolls his eyes.

“We were ruddy well stampeded, but we made it out alive. Course, we got caught by Quirrell.”

“Is he always that nervous?” asked Harry.

“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year of ter get some first-hand experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of students, scared of his own subject…”

 “Now, if I remember rightly, it should be three up… two across…,” Rose muttered, ignoring the way that Harry’s eyes had widened at the word  _vampire_. “Right, stand back, everyone.”

She tapped the wall three times with the point of her wand. Almost instantaneously, the bricks began to melt and fold away into the rest of the wall, revealing a large archway big enough for Hagrid easily to pass through. Rose grinned as she turned to see the Harry, his mouth open slightly in shock. Robin was significantly less impressed, having witnessed this many times before.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley.”

The archway disappeared behind them as they stepped onto the cobbled street. To Rose, the shops dotted around them were painfully familiar, but to Harry they were new and – judging by his expression – fascinating.

“Now Harry,” said Rose teasingly, feeling slightly bad when he jumped. “I know that you’re anxious to get your hand on a cauldron, but we need to get your money out first.”

“Ugh, we have to go to Gringotts?” muttered Robin, wrinkling his nose. “I hate it there, the goblins freak me out.”

“Christopher, don’t be mean!” hissed Rose quietly as Harry pretended not to hear. “You should treat the goblins with  _respect_. Never cross a goblin, as your uncle always says!”

They entered the bank, only Harry looking around with surprise at the goblins as they flitted to and fro, carrying armfuls of jewels and heavy gold coins. Rose immediately approached the front desk, a forced smile plastered on her face. Though she’d never let Robin know, she too found the goblins rather unnerving.

“Good Morning,” she said brightly to a free teller. “We’ve come to take some money out of the Potter family vault and the – uh –  _Black_  family vault.”

She whispered the last part, and Robin frowned, straining his ears, though he couldn’t hear. The goblin raised an eyebrow.

“You have the key, madam?”

“I have my wand, which is registered identification for the latter – is that sufficient?” The goblin nodded. “Excellent. Hagrid, do you have Harry’s key?”

“Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, rifling through his pockets as Rose handed over her wand to the goblin for inspection. The goblin retrieved a small silver key from a drawer and handed it to Rose along with her wand.

“There’s your key, madam. We’ve been saving it for you since your husband’s… departure.”

Rose’s eye twitched slightly and she swiftly pocketed it. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I’ve been otherwise engaged. Now it’s school time however, seems right to dip into the, uh… family funds.”

The goblin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “Got it,” said Hagrid finally, producing a small golden key from amongst the mouldy dog biscuits he had scattered across the counter.

The goblin frowned at the mess and began to inspect the key with a rather sour expression.

“That seems to be in order,” he responded grudgingly.

“An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” Hagrid added with pride, perhaps a little louder than was necessary. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

The goblin read the letter, eyeing Hagrid with suspicion before handing it back.

“Very well. I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Griphook!”

Christopher wrinkled his nose at the sight of Griphook, but quickly stopped after a swift kick to the shin from his mother. They followed the goblin on towards a door at the back of the hall.

“What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?” asked Harry suddenly. Hagrid and Rose shared a panicked look.

“Not now, Harry,” Rose hissed quietly, causing the little boy to swallow guiltily. She felt bad, but she was certain that whatever Dumbledore was hiding in that vault, it wasn’t any of their business.

Griphook led them through the door into the dark cave-like tunnels where the vaults were hidden. Harry hungrily took it all in as the five of them piled into a small cart. Even before the cart had begun hurtling down the dark tracks, Rose felt queasy – her knuckles were white as she grasped one hand onto the side of the cart and the other tightly on her son’s arm.

 “I never know,” Harry yelled as the cart sped on, tracks screeching, “What’s the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?”

Hagrid waved the question away, looking fairly green, and Rose shrugged, refusing to look over the side of the cart. To Harry’s surprise, it was Robin who answered.

“A stalactite grows from the ceiling and a stalagmite grows from the ground,” he shouted, his face lit with glee as they plummeted down a massive drop. He seemed to be treating it as a giant rollercoaster. “Think of it like this: stalactite has a c in it, for ceiling – stalagmite has a g in it, for ground.”

“How do you know that?” asked Harry, looking at Robin curiously.

“I read it in  _Encyclopaedia Brittanica_.”

The cart pulled up at last and they all clambered out, Hagrid and Rose looking distinctly worse for wear. Griphook led them over to the Potter vault, unlocking it swiftly and unleashing a small puff of green smoke. Robin looked quizzically at his mother.

“Protection charms,” Rose whispered in response, her eyes drawn to the piles of silver and gold coins lying in front of them. “It’s all yours, Harry,” she then said slightly louder, stepping aside slightly so that the black-haired boy could move forwards.

Watching the shock flit over his face, it occurred to Rose that he had probably never seen this much money in his life. Just seeing the amount of money that poor James and Lily had put aside for the life they had planned to live with their son made her emotional, so she turned to the side slightly as Hagrid helped the boy. The giant explained the coins to Harry one by one, and picked out a suitable amount of money. After they were done, they returned to the cart, going deeper down into the ground, until they arrived in a much darker, daunting area of the tunnels.

The Black family vault was just like Harry’s, except a lot more imposing. Rose handed Griphook the key, and he unlocked it. Still, the door did not open, and for a moment, Rose wondered if something had gone wrong. Griphook turned to her.

“Password?”

For a split second, Rose wasn’t sure if she could remember. After all, this was Walburga’s vault – she and Sirius had originally had their own. Only after Walburga’s death had the vault fallen to the next living male heir, which so happened to be Robin. She would have to make an educated guess.

With a deep breath, Rose walked up to the door and whispered “ _toujours pur_ ” into the keyhole. She heard the familiar clicks of a door unlocking, and a small vault was unveiled, much to her relief. She couldn’t tell whether there was more money or not than there had been in the Potter’s vault, but there was certainly plenty, much more than in Sirius’. Robin stared around in awe as Rose confidently collected some money, clearly experienced in how much school supplies cost. Robin would probably have stayed for a little longer to stare at his family fortune had Rose not threatened to lock him in if he didn’t get a move on.

“How come you never told me we had all  _that_?” hissed Robin as Griphook shut up the vault. “I could buy  _ten_  Nimbus 2000s with that!”

“Asked and answered,” his mother responded dryly, pushing him forward after the goblin in the small of his back.

Rose expected to have to get back in the cart, but it turned out that vault seven hundred and thirteen was only a few doors down the passage, with no noticeable keyhole.

“Stand back,” said Griphook as he moved forward and stroked the door with his fingers. It disappeared.

“That’s so cool…” whispered Robin, though he quailed at the nasty grin Griphook shot him.

“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there.”

“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Harry asked.

“About once every ten years.”

Rose was curious to see what was in the vault, but was disappointed to see that it was simply a small, grubby, brown paper parcel which Hagrid hastily tucked into one of his many pockets.

The giant grimaced. “Come on, back in this infernal cart, and no one talk to me on the way back, it’s best if I keep me mouth shut.”

***

Rose did not like Diagon Alley particularly. It wasn’t that the street, the most magical street in all of England, wasn’t absolutely mystifying – it was, decidedly so. It just so happened that Rose had never been particularly in awe of it. Her first visit had been coloured by her brother’s being in trouble. On her visit on the fourth year, she had wound up in Knockturn Alley by accident, and gotten into an altercation with a mean old wizard that her father almost hadn’t turned up in time to save her from. And then, in her seventh year, her best friend had broken her heart at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. Florean, feeling sorry for her, had given her an extra bowl of ice cream on the house, and her friends – especially James and Sirius – had called the ex-best friend all manner of bad names, insisting she could do much better, but nothing had helped. It wasn’t so much the incident as it was the consequential embarrassment. She hadn’t been back since, even after she and the friend had made up.

And yet, here she was, back for another year at Hogwarts, Harry and Robin by her side instead of the Marauders, and feeling incredibly ill from the cart ride.

 “Right,” she managed say, hoping her voice masked her queasiness. “What’s next on the list?”

“We might as well get their uniforms,” said Hagrid, pointing  _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions_ which was just a little way down the street. “Listen, why don’t you three pop in there – I’m going to have a quick… uh…” He glanced at Rose. “…cup of coffee in the Leaky Cauldron.”

Rose knew she should lecture him on responsibility, and that he was not intending to have a cup of coffee, but there was a strange churning sensation in her stomach distracting her.  _Perhaps a quick pick-me-up wouldn’t be such a bad thing?_  She could certainly use a quick break from all the memories that were being dredged up from the back of her mind where she repressed them. She turned to face Robin rather guiltily.

“Would it be so wrong for me to join Hagrid?” she asked, trying to ignore the small voice in the back of her head admonishing her for being so irresponsible as to leave the two boys on their own. “If I meet your aunt at the same time, I'll kill two birds with one stone.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_. Can I please have my money then?”

“I think you mean  _my_ money, but yes. You can have exactly the right money for your robes,” Rose replied sternly, handing over a few galleons. “Is this all alright with you Harry? Christopher will take care of you.”

The black-haired boy nodded. “Yes, Ms Prewett.”

Rose smiled briefly before stopping as she supressed a rather large burp. “Excellent. Well, see you in a bit.”

***

“How goes it with Harry?” Arthur said in a low voice, eyes wide with interest as he leaned closer. It was an unnecessary caution; an argument had broken out that was so vicious between Percy and the twins at the other end of the table that no one could hear Rose and her brother-in-law.

Still, Rose glanced quickly at Molly to make sure she was distracted dealing with her sons before carrying on – she was not interested in hearing any of her sister’s reprimands for having left the boys on their own just yet. “Well, I think. He and Robin are buying their robes as we speak. We would have joined them, but I think both Hagrid and I needed a sit down after that damned cart…”

She glanced over at Hagrid, who was at the bar, not so subtly nursing a small brandy. Rose frowned, but said nothing as she sipped her tea – it was none of her business, after all.

Arthur shook his head sadly. “I completely forgot that he would be starting at Hogwarts this year until you told us.”

“I hadn’t,” said Rose, her voice tense, “but I also hadn’t expected to have to be his guide to the wizarding world. I’m worried I unnerved him – I must have seemed quite strange.”

“I’m sure he didn’t notice,” Arthur assured her, his voice soothing. “He’ll have been introduced to plenty of people today, and every single one of them will have been overwhelmed meeting the famous Harry Potter.”

Rose nodded absent-mindedly, but Arthur could tell that she didn’t believe him. He sighed, staring into the bottom of his teacup.

“Does he seem well?” he said finally, looking up at last.

“A little timid, perhaps, but well enough…” She paused for a second, not sure whether to say anything more. Eventually, she found she could no longer contain herself. “He looks just like James – but with Lily’s eyes.”

Arthur smiled, not without pity. “We have to focus on the good things, Rose, when the bad things can’t be changed. The fact that Harry is simply alive right now is in itself a small miracle. And you still have your own son, don’t forget that. Lily and James would want you to make sure you cherish these moments with him.”

A small moment of silence. In unison, Rose and her brother-in-law turned towards the havoc at the other end of the table, which was dying down slowly. Whatever the issue had been, Molly had dealt with it, and by the look she was shooting her husband, she would have appreciated a little help. In a few seconds, attention would be focused back on Rose, and their talk would be over. Arthur quickly turned back to his sister-in-law, but when he spoke it was hesitant.

“Rose… do you think it might be an idea to let him know…”

Arthur didn’t specify who he meant, but Rose knew instantly. She blushed scarlet.

“Why should I? He’s never made any attempt to ask about Harry,  _or_  Robin and I.”

Arthur frowned. “He thinks he’s doing what’s best for you –”

“Well, he’s wrong,” Rose snapped. “And that’s all I have to say about it.”

Arthur seemed as though he wanted to argue the point more, but Molly had returned, and the moment was lost.

***

Rose wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find when she and Hagrid returned to Madam Malkin’s, but the two boys sitting on the doorstep, Robin sporting a bloodied nose, was not it.

“What on  _earth_?” she cried, handing Hagrid the two ice creams they had bought for the boys and running to her son. “What happened to you nose? Are you alright?”

“I’m  _fine_ ,” muttered Robin, squirming beneath her vice grip on his shoulders. “Honestly, it’s nothing.”

“ _Nothing?_  You’re bleeding!”

“You should see the other guy,” said Harry. Rose turned quickly to look at him and he immediately looked apologetic, though she hadn’t missed the mischievous glint in his eye remarkably reminiscent of his father.

“The  _other_   _guy?_  Were you in a fight?”

“Not much of a fight,” said Robin proudly, again in a manner very similar to his own father. “He only got in one punch – just happened to have good aim. I definitely won.”

“ _Won?_ ” Rose whacked him on the shoulder, and he flinched, rubbing his arm sulkily.

“What was that for?”

“What do you think that was for? I can’t believe you! I left you for a half hour and you’re picking fights! What on earth possessed you?”

Robin crossed his arms in defiance. “You should have heard him, mum! He was saying all sorts of things about muggleborns… really nasty stuff!”

“Still, lad,” said Hagrid with as much authority as he could muster. “Yeh shouldn’t be fighting before yeh even get teh school – or at school, fer that matter…”

Rose was torn. She could tell by the righteous indignation in his eyes that Robin genuinely thought he was doing the right thing, and she was intensely reminded of a redheaded school friend of hers. However, she still knew that it was not behaviour to be encouraged.

“It really wasn’t his fault, Ms Prewett,” said Harry quietly, making her look up. Rose regarded his bright green eyes for a few moments before concluding that he was sincere. She sighed.

“No more fighting, do you understand?”

For a second she thought Robin might argue, but then he relented and nodded.

“Good. That goes for you too, Harry, or I’ll give you both a detention when we get to Hogwarts. Now, let’s fix your nose…” She reached into her pocket and produced her wand, pointing it square in his face. “ _Episkey_.”

Robin let out a small cry as his nose snapped back into place.

“ _Scourgify._ ”

The blood disappeared from his face. He breathed heavily for a few seconds before he looked up at Hagrid. “Is that ice cream?”

***

“Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”

“Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know – not knowin’ about Quidditch!”

“Hagrid, don’t rub it in,” said Rose gently, shooting Harry a reassuring smile. “Honestly, Harry, you’re not missing out. I find Quidditch rather tedious myself.”

“Yeah,” sniggered Robin, “That’s just because you’re really bad at it.”

She shot him a look that made him fall into silence again.

“Don’t make me feel worse,” said Harry glumly. “After talking to that boy in Madam Malkin’s… he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in to Hogwarts – is he right? Should I even be here?”

Hagrid looked personally offended. “Neither of yeh are  _from_  a Muggle family. If he had known who you two  _were_  – Harry, he’s grown up knowin’ your name if his parents are wizardin’ folk – you saw ‘em in the Leaky Cauldron. And Christopjer, well, you come from two o’ the oldest wizardin’ families there are – the Prewetts and the –”

Robin looked up in interest at that, but Hagrid, realising he was on dodgy ground again, quickly moved on, much to Rose’s relief.

“Anyway, what does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ‘em in a long line o’ Muggles –look at yer mum, Harry! Look at what she had fer a sister!”

“So what  _is_  Quidditch?” Harry insisted, looking to Rose once more.

“It’s a wizard sport. It’s like football – everyone follows Quidditch – it’s played up in the air on broomsticks and there’s four balls – I was never that into it, maybe someone at Hogwarts can explain the rules.”

“And what are Hufflepuff and Slytherin?”

“The houses at Hogwarts. There are four. Hufflepuffs are teased for being a bit slow, but –”

“I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily.

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.”

“Oh, so what am I?” said Rose indignantly. “A fluke? Or am I evil too?”

“Ah, Rose, yeh know I didn’ mean that…” said Hagrid awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s jus’ that – well, yeh know… You-Know-Who was one.”

Robin’s eyes widened in shock. “You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts? I never knew that.”

“Years ago now,” said Rose. “And I promise you, the fact he was in Slytherin had nothing to do with his descent into dark magic.”

Hagrid still didn’t look convinced, but no one dared argue. They made their way through  _Flourish and Blotts_ , the Cauldron shop and the apothecary’s with no problems. Once outside of the apothecary’s, Hagrid checked their lists again.

“Just yer wands left – oh, an’ we still haven’t got yeh a birthday present, Harry.”

Harry blushed. “You don’t have to –”

“Nonsense Harry, it’s your birthday!” said rose in a no-nonsense tone. “Tell you what, we’ll get you an animal. Not a toad, toads went out of fashion years ago, you don’t want to be teased. How about a cat? I had a cat when I was at school.”

“No,” said Hagrid, suddenly interrupting. “I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze.”

Rose raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment. “Alright. We’ll get you an owl. All the children want owls these days, they’re incredibly useful, they carry your post as well.”

“Aw, I want an owl!” sulked Robin.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m not stopping you, but you have to pay for it –  _and take care of it_ – yourself.”

After a good half hour, they arrive outside of  _Ollivander’s_  wand shop, both Harry and Robin now carrying large cages. In Robin’s was an elegant barn owl with big brown eyes like his mother’s. In Harry’s was a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing.

“Ms Prewett –” said Harry nervously, “Hagrid – you didn’t have to…”

“We know we didn’t have to Harry,” said Rose gently. “We wanted to.”

“Yeah, don’ mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Don’ expect yeh’ve had a lot of presents from them Dursleys.”

The four of them bustled into  _Ollivander’s_. As soon as she had one foot in the door, Rose felt uneasy. She hated this shop – Ollivander made her feel distinctly on edge – but she forced a bright smile as she gently pushed Robin and Harry forward into the room. Hagrid settled himself onto a spindly chair in the corner of the room, and rose stepped back to stand beside him.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. The boys jumped. Hagrid jumped too, and the chair made a crunching sound. He jumped up, face red.

Ollivander had arrived, overlooking them all with his eerie pale eyes.

“Hello,” said Harry, clearly uncomfortable. Robin tilted his head with a jolt, his usual nonchalance lost in his unease.

“Ah yes,” said Ollivander. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you two soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charmwork.”

He moved closer to the boy. Rose had to resist the urge to tug Harry back to her side.

“Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it – it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

Another step closer.

“And that’s where…”

He reached out a finger so that it was only inches from the scar on Harry’s forehead. It was a step too far. Rose coughed forcefully, breaking the silence.

“Mr Ollivander…” she said warningly. The older man stepped back at once.

“Yes, of course… My apologies… I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly, not quite grasping Rose’s hint that he should leave the subject. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do…”

To everyone’s relief, Ollivander then turned to address Rose.

“Rose Prewett! How nice to see you again… Alder, ten inches, brittle, wasn’t it?”

“You have quite the memory, sir,” said Rose wryly.

“And Rubeus Hagrid! Sixteen inches, rather bendy… Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” said Mr Ollivander, suddenly stern.

“Er – yes, they did, yes.” The giant shifted on his feet in embarrassment. “I’ve still got the pieces though!”

“But you don’t  _use_  them?”

“Oh, no, of course not.” He gripped his pink umbrella tightly.

“Hmm,” said Mr Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. “Well, now – Mr Prewett, let’s start with you first. Let me see.” Robin jumped at being addressed for the first time. Mr Ollivander pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

Robin waved with his right arm.

“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” Mr Ollivander measured William from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. As he measured he said, “I remember your father too, Mr Prewett.”

Robin’s eyes widened in muffled glee – Rose’s heart jumped to her throat. “Really?”

“Oh yes. I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr Prewett. Ash, fourteen and a quarter inches, reasonably supple. Now, back to your wand. Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Prewett. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, phoenixes or dragons are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand. That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr Prewett. I think I’ve got a good grasp on you, because your parents are such dominant personalities, but I want to make sure…”

He put two long, thin boxes on the counter. “Two wands; I’m certain that one of them is for you. Try this one first: fir, phoenix feather core, thirteen inches, reasonably supple.”

Robin picked it up gingerly, but immediately dropped it with a hissing noise. “It burned!”

“Clearly not,” mused Ollivander, boxing the dropped wand away. “Try the other one. Exactly the same, but this time in sycamore.”

With increased caution, Robin picked up the other wand. He smiled slowly, and although Rose couldn’t see anything, she knew that her son would choose this one.

“Try moving it,” said Ollivander. Robin moved the wand to the side, and small gold sparkles followed the tip. “Perfect. That will be seven Galleons – now, Mr Potter…”

Rose counted out seven gold coins as Ollivander went about measuring Harry. Robin seemed reluctant to see his wand packed away, but the joy was still evident on his face, and Harry couldn’t wait for his turn.

“Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Harry began to wave the wand, but Ollivander immediately snatched it away.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –”

Again, Ollivander ripped it back.

“No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”

This seemed to go on forever. Rose stifled a yawn as Harry tried his tenth wand.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry took the wand and his facial expression immediately changed. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Robin and Hagrid whooped, Rose clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…”

He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious… curious…”

“Sorry,” said Harry, “but  _what’s_  curious?”

Mr Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed.

“I think that’s quite enough of that kind of talk, don’t you think?” said Rose quickly, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach that Ollivander would even talk of such things. Ollivander seemed to realise he had crossed a line.

“Yes, yes, perhaps you’re right. But still… thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter… After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.”

“Alright! Time we get going!” said Rose suddenly. She slammed seven galleons on the counter, ignoring Harry’s protests that he should pay, and dragged the two boys out of the shop, Hagrid hot on their heels.

***

“Are you alright, Harry? You’re very quiet.”

Harry looked up from his burger at Rose, blinking rapidly. They had parted ways with Hagrid in Diagon Alley, and it was now up to Rose to bring the boys back to Privet Drive, though she had taken them on a small detour to buy burgers as they hadn’t had anything but cold sausages and ice cream all day. With Robin in the toilet, it seemed the right time to try and speak to Harry. She was sure he was probably suffering from some sort of culture shock.

It took him a while, but at last he spoke. “Everyone thinks I’m special. All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr Ollivander… but I don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened when Vol – sorry – I mean, the night my parents died.”

Rose leant across the table. Behind the tentative caution there was a very kind smile.

“Don’t worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yourself. I know it’s hard. You’ve been singled out, and that’s always hard. But you’ll both have a brilliant time at Hogwarts – I did. So did your parents.”

Robin returned and the moment was lost, but Rose thought Harry seemed slightly more upbeat. She and the boys boarded the train. When they were sat down, Rose handed them both an envelope.

“From Hagrid – your tickets for Hogwarts. First of September, King’s Cross. It’s all on there.”

Rose smiled to herself as she watched the boys inspect their tickets, Robin with mild interest and Harry with pure joy. They might not know it yet, but these would be the best years of their lives.

***

Rose sighed as she stretched out in her armchair, a frown etched onto her face. The fire was crackling merrily in the grate, but it did nothing to improve her mood. There had been an awkward interaction with Petunia when dropping Harry off, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. Frankly, she didn’t give a fig what Petunia thought as long as Harry was happy, which he had seemed when they had said their goodbyes. Even Robin, who was now tucked up in bed, had given Harry a quick smile. No, it was something entirely else that was keeping her from falling asleep.

Ever since her conversation with Arthur that afternoon, she had been unable to get a certain someone out of her head, no matter how many cups of tea she downed. Even switching to a small dash of firewhisky had not helped.

Rose ground her teeth as she stood up suddenly, and began to pace the length of her living room. What right was it of his to know how Harry was? He didn’t deserve a letter, not after what he had said. She would never forgive him, never.

_It was ten years ago now… Perhaps he regrets it?_

If he did regret it, then why had he not said so? Why had he not written?

_Perhaps he was too embarrassed._

He should be.

_And so should you. He wasn’t the only one to say deplorable things that night._

Rose knew the little voice inside her head was right, although she was loathed to admit it. For a moment she considered it, her hand resting on the writing desk next to the window. One small letter was all it would take to re-establish communication between the two of them…

She stowed her hand back in her pocket.  _Not tonight_. With a flick of her wand, the fire was extinguished. It had been a long day, and what she needed now was a good night’s rest.

 

**_***Author's Note***_ **

**Apologies for the long wait between updates! I've been having exams, and this chapter was really hard because of how close to canon it was. Didn't want to feel like I was regurgitating Ms Rowling's words, though there are some sections of speech, especially near the end, which are word for word. It just felt wrong to change them when they were so pertinent to Harry's story. But this should be one of the very few chapters where I feel compelled to stick so strictly to canon!**

**Hope you're still enjoying the story, and I hope to see you soon!**

**LoonyLoopyLuna xxx**


	10. Trains and Tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1973**

“Are you sure you have everything, Rose?”

Rose smiled at Remus’ mother as she lugged her suitcase down the stairs. “Quite sure, Mrs Lupin – I had Remus on his hands and knees scouring under the bed for any lost socks.”

Mrs Lupin shook her head fondly as she slipped on her coat. “Glad to hear it. And please, call me Hope.”

Rose nodded in acknowledgement, though she was much too busy trying to get her luggage down the last few steps to say anything else. She was also much too embarrassed to call Mrs Lupin ‘Hope’, though the woman had quickly become a sort of motherly figure to her in the last few weeks. It was similar to her relationship with Molly, only without the aspect of sibling rivalry.

Rose paused at the base of the stairs, yawning as quietly as she could. London was a good four-hour trip away from Wales, so they had to be out of the door by five o’clock in the morning. Rose had barely had any sleep, too nervous thinking about the promise that Remus had made her the previous evening.

“Oh, here, let me take that for you,” said Mr Lupin, rounding the corner into the hall and spying Rose struggling. Before she could protest, he had whipped the suitcase from her grasp and carried it with ease out of the door and into the boot of the Lupins’ Austin Allegro. Rose felt a small bubble of annoyance in her chest, but she murmured her thanks out of politeness. Despite how close she and his wife had grown, Mr Lupin remained aloof, and they did not have the same sort of rapport.

“Remus, darling, are you nearly ready?” Mrs Lupin called up the stairs. There was a muffled cry of response before Remus emerged, collar uneven and hair dishevelled, dragging along a suitcase behind him.

“Sorry – I lost my Transfiguration textbook – turns out it had fallen behind the dresser.”

“Well, that’s quite alright, as long as you’re here now. We’ll be setting off any moment, we wouldn’t want to be late. That bloody Hogwarts Express, it has to set off at nine  _on the dot_ , absolutely no leeway… Lyall, come and help Remus with his bag!”

Lyall ducked back into the house, nonchalantly waving his hand as he went to the coatrack to pick up his hat. Remus’ bag began levitating itself down the stairs, landing with a satisfactory thumping sound on the welcome mat. Remus rolled his eyes. “Show off,” he muttered, winking a Rose as he picked the suitcase up once more and brought it out to the car.

Rose followed on, chivvied by Mrs Lupin, but not before giving Remus’ father one last cursory glance. Mr Lupin was a strange fellow – reserved but opinionated, humble but arrogant. He was clearly a very talented wizard, and yet he rarely spoke of the wizarding world unless it was directly relevant to the topic of conversation. Rose supposed it was his way of dealing with Remus’ condition. Still, she found it very odd.

“Come along, Rose, you’re up in space!” said Mrs Lupin loudly, jolting the young girl out of her reverie.

“Sorry, Mrs Lupin, I was thinking about whether I have enough money for the trolley lady!”

“I’m sure if you don’t that someone can lend it to you. Now in the back with Remus!”

Mrs Lupin slipped into the driving seat, and they were off. The journey to London was mostly uneventful. Remus and Rose played a tediously long game of eye spy that only came to an end when Mr Lupin rather pointedly turned the radio on as loud as Mrs Lupin would let him. About half way there Rose dozed off, even the crooning of Paul McCartney unable to keep her awake. She only returned to the world, bleary-eyed and dazed, when Remus gently shook her until she awoke.

“Sorry Rose – but we’re at King’s Cross, and there’s only ten minutes until the train leaves.”

Then came a mad dash to platform 9 and ¾, past the magical barrier, and then a hurried goodbye from the Lupins. Mrs Lupin kissed and hugged them both and tried not to sob. Mr Lupin gave his son a firm pat on the shoulder, and Rose a reserved inclination of the head. Although she cared very deeply for Mrs Lupin, Rose was not sad to see the back of Remus’ father as they clambered with their trunks onto the train and waved goodbye. It was only when they were unable to see the platform anymore that Rose turned and grinned at her friend.

“So.”

He grinned back. “So.”

Rose sighed, and flicked a lock of hair that had fallen into her face back with the tip of her wand. “Are you going to keep your promise then?”

“Of course,” said Remus evenly, though she did not miss the trepidation that flashed through his murky green eyes. “Although, if you’re having second thoughts, I’m sure that Lily and Severus would take you back.”

“Not at all,” Rose said firmly, staring fiercely up at him. “I’ve already explained to Lils that I’ll be with you. It would be terribly embarrassing to go back on my word.”

Remus shook his head in exasperation, but didn’t argue. “If you insist. Just don’t be surprised if they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.”

He picked up his bag and began leading the way down the corridor, glancing into each compartment he passed by. Rose followed on quickly, a spring in her step.

“What are you talking about? Sirius was  _delightful_. And just as attractive up close as he seems when Lily and I ogle at him during Potions.”

It was Remus’ turn to sigh. “Please, whatever you do, don’t tell him that. If that boy’s head gets any bigger, it won’t fit through the common room porthole anymore.”

He was joking, but there was an edge to his tone that made Rose drop the subject. It was strange how that always seemed to happen when they talked about Sirius. “I miss Cat,” Rose said glumly as they made their way into the next carriage.

“I know. I’m sorry you couldn’t bring him home, but dad’s allergic and it’s not worth all his complaining.” He looked over his shoulder to see that Rose was still pouting. “He’ll be back at Hogwarts by Christmas! You never know, your dad might drop him off for you even before then.”

Rose snorted. “Unlikely. Though dad does hate Cat, so maybe he might just, if I pester him enough…”

Remus didn’t reply – his attention had been caught by the occupants of a compartment to his right. His eyes lit up in excitement, but the excitement dimmed slightly as he looked back at Rose. “Ready?”

Rose nodded, despite the increasing nerves filling her stomach. “As I’ll ever be.”

Remus shot her a reassuring smile before sliding open the door. Before Rose could even catch sight of the boys inside, there was a resounding chorus of “Remus!” and a big black blur flew past Rose’s nose as it collided with her friend. The only sound Remus had the time to make was a wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs and he fell to the ground. Rose stared blankly at the sprawling mass on the floor, unsure of how to react, until a mop of curly black hair looked up at her and winked.

“Hello there, Prewett.”

“Black,” said Rose cautiously, although unable to supress a small grin. Sirius smirked.

“Good to see you again! Oi, James, come see who it is!”

“Get –  _off_  – me –” gasped Remus, though no one was listening. Another boy popped his head around the door into the corridor, and Rose recognised the square glasses and mess of black hair immediately –  _James Potter_. The Chaser glanced around at the scene, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that Sirius was straddling his friend.

“Who’s this then?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and pushing his glasses back up his nose. Sirius, who was still wrestling Remus into a headlock, let out a short bark of laughter.

“This is Remus’  _girlfriend_.”

“She is –  _not_  – my girlfriend,” Remus grunted, at last succeeding in toppling Sirius over and standing up. He looked distinctly more dishevelled than usual, which was saying something; he brushed himself off. “James, this is Rose Prewett. Rose, this is –”

“James Potter,” said Rose quickly, cutting him off. “Of course I know Hogwarts’ star Chaser.”

It was an exaggeration – Rose had never really given two hoots about Quidditch – but it seemed to work. James looked rather smug. Sirius, on the other hand, rolled his eyes from where he was sat on the floor – not that James noticed, being too busy preening himself.

“I wouldn’t say  _star_  Chaser necessarily,” said James, aiming for humility and missing spectacularly. “There are eleven other Chaser’s after all – Stebbins even occasionally manages to catch the Quaffle.”

“Yes, alright James, we get it,” said Sirius loudly, getting to his feet and brushing past his best friend as he dragged Remus into the compartment. “I know she’s a redhead, which might have confused you, but Rose isn’t  _actually_  Evans, so save us all the experience of hearing how you scored the winning goal against Ravenclaw last summer for the one hundredth time and come and sit down.”

James gave Rose an apologetic glance before indicating that she should follow Remus on. Only once inside the compartment did Rose realise for the first time that she was truly sat with James Potter and Sirius Black. Sirius was lounging across the seats on the left, his feet on Remus’ lap, who was seated next to the window. On the right sat a small boy with pale brown hair and a nervous air, whose eyes kept flicking back and forth between Rose and James with suspicion. Rose recognised him from Potions, but couldn’t quite remember his name.  _Was it Patrick?_

James settled himself next to the small boy, and Rose was suddenly aware that she had to decide where to sit. Sirius raised his legs up into the air with all the suggestiveness he could muster, indicating that she should sit between himself and Remus, acting as his own personal footrest. Rose, finding this idea unpalatable, chose instead to sit down next to James, opposite of Remus.

“Good choice,” whispered James, with a small wink. Rose blushed. Sirius scowled.

“Alright, Miss Prissy, so be it – but most girls in our year would kill to touch my legs.”

“Are you sure, Black?” said Rose, raising an eyebrow. “I hear Professor Kettleburn’s roosters have better calf definition.”

James sniggered at the look of horror on his best friend’s face, whilst Remus simply smiled. “You heard correctly,” he murmured, giving Sirius’ calf an affectionate squeeze. “Nothing but bone.”

James nodded. “I can attest – the amount of times I’ve accidentally walked in on Sirius in the shower, I can tell you that it’s a fact.”

“Oh, yeah sure,  _accidentally_ ,” said Sirius in a sardonic tone. “Because everyone  _accidentally_  walks in on their roommate whilst they’re in the shower five times in a row. That’s certainly  _not_  weird in any way.”

“Oh, piss off,” muttered James, flipping Sirius off. Sirius simply sent an equally rude hand gesture back.

“Alright, you two, enough,” Remus interrupted, rolling his eyes. “At least try to act like functioning members of society for once in your lives, for Rose’s sake if not mine.”

“Sorry,” said the boy on James’ left meekly, leaning forward so that he was more central to the conversation, “but who is Rose?”

Sirius looked at the sky. “God, Peter, do you ever pay attention?”

Peter frowned. “I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault none of you bothered to introduce me to the random girl in our compartment.”

“I mean, you know her name is Rose, so you know about as much as I do,” said James, leaning back in his chair, and fixing Rose with an inscrutable gaze.

Remus took it upon himself to make the introduction. “Peter Pettigrew, this is Rose Prewett, one of my closest friends, and the first friend I ever made at Hogwarts. Rose, this is Peter, one of my other closest friends, who shares a dormitory with Sirius, James and I.”

“Which is very unfortunate,” Sirius added, “as he continues to leave odd bits of food stashed around the place, which inevitably goes mouldy, despite us telling him a thousand times to stop.”

Peter went bright red at the statement. “I have hypoglycaemia! I need food in the dorms in case I crash!”

“Ah yes, because keeping your energy levels high when you’re asleep is vital.”

“Oh, bog off Sirius.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter,” said Rose firmly, determined to leave a good impression on all of Remus’ friends and to get Sirius off his back. Peter, rather than looking relieved, however, only looked more bewildered, muttering a quick ‘you too’ before sinking back into his chair. She caught Remus’ eye and tried to convey her concern over whether she had done something wrong – it must of worked, because he mouthed,  _it’s fine_.

“So you’re a Prewett?” said James at last, changing the subject. “You’re not related to our old Prefects, Fabian and Gideon, are you?”

Rose internally groaned, but tried not to show it in her expression. “Actually, I am – they’re my older brothers.”

James’ face lit up. “No way! I can’t believe it! You’re related to  _Fabian and Gideon Prewett?_ ”

“Afraid so,” said Rose, slightly awkward and confused as to why this was such a big deal. Remus noticed and explained.

“James loves your brothers because of that prank they pulled on Filch on leavers’ day.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Rose flatly, remembering the uproar that had caused when her father had found out. “Ha.”

Sirius seemed to catch the edge to her tone. “Something got under your skin, Prewett?”

“Not at all,” said Rose calmly, trying her best to smooth out the wrinkle above her nose. “Just having seen them suffer from violent diarrhoea after eating dodgy street food in Edinburgh, I suppose the shine has worn off.”

James looked as though he really wished he had never heard that information. “Yeah, well… it wasn’t  _just_  the leavers prank. I’ve been following their work ever since they got here, and they’re masters of the perfect crime… How come we’ve never met before?”

“We have,” said Rose brightly. “We met on the train to Hogwarts in our first year.”

James’ hazel eyes narrowed for a moment as he thought back. “I… think I remember, now that you mention it… but I don’t understand why I haven’t seen you since.”

“It’s because she’s a Slytherin,” Sirius drawled, clearly bored with the way Rose had been skirting around the issue. “When is the trolley lady coming round? I’m starving.”

An uncomfortable silence descended over the compartment, not that Black seemed to notice. Remus looked very awkward, the tips of his ears turning red. James’ moth was hanging open slightly as he contemplated this new piece of information. Peter looked positively frightened.

“Well,” said Rose eventually, biting her lip slightly. “Thanks for that Black.”

Black shot her a grin as he rested his head against the back of the bench and closed his eyes as though he were about to nap. “No problemo, Rosie Posie.”

Rose grimaced at the nickname. Meanwhile, James appeared to have regained the ability to speak.

“You’re a Slytherin?” he asked, his voice incredulous. “Since when have you been friends with Slytherins, Remus?”

“I’m not friends with  _Slytherins_ ,” Remus said defensively, desperately avoiding eye contact with anyone, “I am friends with Rose, who just  _happens_  to be a Slytherin. Not that there’s anything wrong with Slytherins!” he corrected himself quickly, after catching the stony look on Rose’s face. “I just don’t make a habit of befriending them. Any more than I go out of my way to befriend Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws that is. Not that I have a Gryffindor bias – or any bias – oh, you know what I mean!”

The last sentence was more of a squeak. Remus pointedly turned his head away from the conversation and began staring out of the window at the English countryside that was flashing by. From the expression on his face, he seemed to be dying to throw himself through it.

“James, let it go,” said Sirius, “before Remus gives himself a heart attack.”

“I said nothing,” James replied hotly, crossing his arms in defiance. “I simply wondered when exactly Remus was going to let us all in on the fact that he’s been making friends with pureblood maniacs.”

The mood within the compartment instantly shifted from one of gentle teasing to incredibly tense. Rose let out a gasp of indignation.

“How dare you? You know nothing about me!”

“I know you’re a Slytherin,” James replied instantly. “And the Slytherin’s I know are all more interested in blood heritage than common decency. Just look at Sirius’ family, for a start.”

“Gee, thanks for that,” muttered Sirius. Finally, something appeared to have aggravated him. He sat up straight in his seat for the first time.

James became rather sheepish suddenly. “I’m sorry, mate. But it is true – name one member of your family that’s not absolutely insane.”

“James, I don’t want to talk about this,” said Sirius through gritted teeth, but the other boy seemed too caught up in his own thoughts to hear him.

“I mean, I know that Regulus isn’t too bad – and Andromeda’s alright – but Bellatrix and Narcissa –”

“James!” barked Sirius, causing James to stop in his tracks. “I said that’s enough!”

James swallowed, and held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought them into it.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Sirius relaxed slightly, but his shoulders were still slightly tense. “Still, James has a point, Prewett – your buddy Snivellous is a right piece of work.”

“She’s friends with  _Snivellous?_ ” exclaimed James, almost jumping from his seat with righteous anger. “Remus, what were you  _thinking?_ ”

Remus made a non-committal noise before sinking further into his chair.

Rose felt the knot in her stomach tighten – Sirius had a point, she knew, though she wasn’t about to abandon her friend just to get in their good graces. “ _Severus_  isn’t a horrible person. Sure, he’s  _misguided_  sometimes… but so are a lot of people! Maybe he’d be nicer to you on the whole if you stopped targeting him all the time with your silly little pranks, which are, by the way, completely immature. Oh, and we’re both also friends with Lily Evans,  _Potter_ , so I’d watch what you say.”

James’ nostrils flared at the mention of Lily. “You leave Evans out of this.”

“Then  _you_  stop making assumptions about people you’ve barely even met over what house a hat sorted them into when they were eleven, you arrogant twerp!”

“Apologist!”

“Bully!”

“ _Death Eater!_ ”

The words hung in the air, leaving behind them a silence so severe that one could have heard a pin drop several carriages down. Even Sirius, who had been watching the bickering with mild amusement, was shocked, his grey eyes wide. Peter seemed unable to take his own eyes off the car crash that was happening in front of him as he willed the seat to swallow him up. Remus blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend how things had gone so wrong so quickly. James and Rose remained in a stalemate, gazes locked, as the reality of what had been said settled around them.

It was Rose who moved first. Feeling tears prickling at her eyes, but refusing to allow Potter to see them fall, she fled from the room, making sure to slam the sliding door behind her. Remus was next, unable to stop himself running after her, though not before shooting James a dirty look. James, on the other hand, was still frozen to the spot, brow furrowed, contemplating what he had said in the heat of the moment.

At that moment, the compartment door slid open, and the three boys looked up, expecting to see Remus and hopefully Rose. Unfortunately, all they saw was an old lady, smiling politely.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

***

By the time Remus found Rose, she was already in floods of tears, being comforted by Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon and a girl that he didn’t recognise. All three of her companions gave him dirty looks as he slipped into the compartment.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” said the girl he didn’t recognise stoutly. She had dark, frizzy, shoulder-length hair and fierce olive-coloured eyes. Remus hesitated at the ferociousness of her stare, but didn’t leave.

“I came to see if she was alright,” he said quietly, trying to catch a glimpse of Rose between the other girls – but they seemed to have formed a physical barrier which prevented him from even catching sight of her, bar the top of her head. He could still hear her sniffles, however.

“She’s fine, Remus,” said Lily, frowning disapprovingly. “It would be best if you just go.”

“Yeah, and tell Potter to go jump off the train,” snarled Marlene, her golden curls bobbing as she jerked her head towards the window.

Remus could feel his agitation growing, though he tried to stifle it with a few short breaths. “You know, I really think Rose should answer for herself.”

The unknown girl’s eyes widened in fury. “How  _dare_  you –” she began, but stopped before she could finish her sentence by Rose’s hand tugging at her sleeve. The three girls turned in unison to look at her, allowing Remus to see for the first time her red face, swollen from crying.

“It’s fine, Leah,” she murmured. “He can stay.”

The girl, who Remus now knew to be Leah, seemed desperate to argue, but instead gave a stiff nod. This did not mean she was welcoming him, nevertheless – she refused to move her legs from in from of the doorway, forcing Remus to clamber over them and nearly trip, twice. Finally, he landed on the floor next to Rose, a short distance away so as not to crowd her. His eyes met Lily’s, and they shared a brief moment of understanding.

“Come on, Mars,” said Lily, getting to her feet. “You too, Leah. Let’s see if we can catch up with the trolley lady and buy Rosie some Chocolate Frogs to cheer her up.”

Leah scoffed in disbelief. “And leave  _him_  here to make her cry even more? I don’t think so.”

She pointed an accusing finger at Remus’ face. It took all of his restraint not to slap it away.

“Please, Leah?” said Rose, her voice weary. “We just need a little time alone, that’s all. Remus won’t upset me, will you Remus?”

Remus, who had not been expecting to be addressed, stared blankly at his friend for a moment before coming to his sense and nodding fervently. “No, of course not. At least – not intentionally…”

Leah did not seem convinced, but it appeared that she had reached the extent of her authority. With much reluctance, she too stood up, and the three girls made their way into the corridor, though not before Remus sent Lily a thankful smile, which she reciprocated. Only when the door had closed behind them did Remus feel at last that he could speak to Rose, though the lump in his throat caused by seeing her upset made it hard.

“So let me guess… Sirius is still your favourite.”

Despite herself, Rose giggled, though it was short lived and soon turned into a small sob. Without thinking, Remus extended his arm for a hug, and was surprised with how quickly his friend fell into it, and how natural it felt to have her head resting on his shoulder. He sighed deeply, letting his head rest on the wall, trying not to inhale the scent of lemon blossoms that seemed to follow Rose wherever she went.

“Look, James is an arse. He’s arrogant, judgemental, conceited and stubborn, and what he said was way out of line, and you were perfectly justified to react the way you did.”

Remus sniffled in response. Remus took another deep breath, preparing himself.

“But, James is also the sweetest guy I know. He’s kind, thoughtful, loyal to a fault, and the best friend you could ask for. The reason he reacted that way to you being a Slytherin is because he knows how badly Slytherins –  _certain_ Slytherins,” he corrected himself quickly before Rose could even open her mouth, “have treated Sirius and Lily in the past, two people he cares very deeply about. Now, James way of dealing with that problem – by lashing out at you and Severus, amongst others – is not right, and if he doesn’t apologise to you within the next twenty four hours, I will have Marlene hex him into oblivion like I  _know_  she is dying to. But Rose, you need to give him a chance to get to know you and to trust you – I promise you won’t regret it.”

Rose was silent for a few moments, and Remus wondered whether she was going to turn on him instead. However, her better nature seemed to win through, and she sighed, surreptitiously wiping a few stray tears.

“Remus, if you’re insistent that he’s a good guy, then I’m willing to give him a second chance – but I swear, if he  _ever_ implies that I would be one of those – one of those  _hateful_  people ever again, I will set Marlene loose on him without a second thought. And I shall tell Lily not to touch him with a barge pole.”

Remus felt the tension lift slightly from between his shoulders. “Of course. I wouldn’t try to stop you.” He gave her nose a gentle boop. “Hey, cheer up.”

Rose scowled slightly. “I should never have told you about that.”

It seemed to work however. As they sat in companionable silence, Rose’s tearful snuffles grew more and more infrequent, until she was dry-eyed. Remus supposed he should say something, but he was enjoying the serenity of the moment and the way their chests rose and fell in synchronisation. So relaxed was he in fact, that he almost dozed off, and thus almost missed the tentative knock on the compartment door.

Rose did not however, and sat up immediately, her eyes still red-rimmed and puffy, though she tried to act nonchalant. “Who is it?”

The door slid open slowly to reveal none other than James Potter himself, a sheepish expression on his face, and his arms filled to the brim with Chocolate Frogs.

“Hey Rose – before you yell at me,” he started quickly, before Rose even had a chance to open her mouth, “I just wanted to say sorry. I had a long chat with Sirius, and he said that I should have given you more of a chance, and that what I said was really quite rude. And, after thinking it over, I realised he’s right.”

“As always…” came an airy voice from the corridor. James scowled and aimed a kick to his left, followed by a muffled cry and an “ _ow…_ ”

James coughed pointedly. “Anyway, I came to say that I’m sorry. I was out of line, and I made a snap judgement. But Sirius says that these are your favourite snack from the trolley, so, because I’m rubbish with apologies…”

He walked forward, as though delivering an offering to the shrine of some great ancient god, and placed the pile of Chocolate Frogs carefully at her feet. He then quickly stepped back, trying to gage her reaction. Rose stared blankly at the mountain of sweets in front of her for a split second, before saying, “How did Sirius know I like Chocolate Frogs?”

“Ah,” said Sirius, appearing into view and leaning against the doorframe. Behind his shoulder, Remus could just see the top of Peter’s head. “Well, being the wonderful friend that I am, I actually read all those letters that Remus sent me over the summer when he was convincing me to come to Wales to come and meet you. Aside from being incredibly twee and just generally vomit-inducing, he did mention a few useful titbits that I filed away for future reference, such as your penchant for Chocolate Frogs.”

Remus felt a small twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach as he watched a warm smile curl its way over Rose’s lips. Sure, Sirius had remembered, but  _Remus_  had been the one who had spent the time finding her likes and dislikes after all.

“There must be a good twenty Chocolate Frogs here,” she marvelled, picking one up.

“Twenty-eight to be precise,” said Peter, sticking his head over Sirius’ shoulder. “We clubbed all our spare change together, and it was just enough for 28 Chocolate Frogs and one liquorice wand.” He held out the wand to Remus. “For you.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Thanks…? What’s the occasion?”

“We’re sorry for not treating your friend well, even though she means a lot to you,” said Peter solemnly, sandy hair falling into his eyes as he bowed his head.

Rose chuckled slightly, still overwhelmed. “I think it’s safe to say you’re forgiven, don’t you think Remus?”

Remus gave his liquorice wand a disparaging look. “I mean, if you let me swipe one of your Chocolate Frogs then sure – I can’t stand this stuff.”

“Which is exactly why I told them to buy it!” said Sirius with great satisfaction, snatching the wand from his friend’s hand as he joined them sitting on the floor. “I love it.”

He took a large bite, chewing happily. Rose sent James a tentative smile, patting the ground that was free next to her as she passed Remus a frog. James grinned, and was just about to join her when he heard a shout from further down the carriage.

“Oi, Potter!”

James barely had time to turn around before the spell hit him square in the face, making his glasses fall off with the force of it. He stumbled backwards, and Peter caught him just before he hit the ground. Sirius, Rose and Remus all rushed forwards, before stopping in their tracks when they noticed the spell’s effect.

“What in the bloody hell was that, McKinnon?!” cried James, whipping out his own wand, ready to retaliate. Unfortunately, no one could quite take the threat seriously given the circumstances. Sirius, unable to pretend for one more second, doubled over, wheezing uncontrollably.

“Oh… my…  _Godric_ , James… Sweet mercy… Oh, Minnie will absolutely  _murder_ you…”

“What?” snapped James. “What are you talking about?” He trained the wand on Marlene’s face as she ambled down the corridor towards them, content with her handiwork. “What did you do?”

“Nothing you didn’t deserve,” she retorted, crossing her arms. “What are you doing here anyway? Come to throw more insults at Rose, have you? Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“Oh, no, Mars!” said Rose, desperately trying not to laugh and upset James. “No, he came to apologise – look!”

She gestured towards the pile of Chocolate Frogs which was still in the middle of the compartment floor. Marlene’s eyes flickered slightly as she processed the fact that she may have overreacted.

“Ah. Sorry mate,” she said briskly, patting James on the shoulder. “The effects should wear off after about a week though.”

“A  _week_?” spluttered Sirius in between bouts of hysteria. “You mean he’ll have to do  _Quidditch try-outs_  like this?”

“Like what?” James was practically fuming by this point. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

It was at this point that Lily Evans rounded the corner, Leah in her wake, with a jar of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans in her hand. “Ah, Rose, you’re looking better now! I knew Remus would be able to help… We tried to find you some Chocolate Frogs, but some muppet bought them all, so we got you these beans inste –” She stopped in her tracks, green eyes widening. “Potter, is that you? What on Earth have you done to your hair?”

James’ face went as white as a sheet. “My… my hair?”

He ran his fingers through his mop of hair, clearly relieved to find that it was still there. He pushed past Peter, running towards the train bathrooms, desperate to know what Marlene had done to him, while the rest of them just barely managed to contain their sniggers until he had disappeared down the corridor.

“Oh Marlene,” said Rose in rebuke, wiping away some tears of laughter. “You shouldn’t have!”

Marlene only shrugged. “What? I thought he’d come to upset you again. I did what needed to be done. Besides, I don’t think it looks half bad…”

“I think it looks  _brilliant_ ,” said Sirius, still wheezing.

It was at this moment that James returned, whizzing down the corridor, the fury of a thousand suns in his eyes.

“MCKINNON, YOU TURN IT BACK RIGHT NOW!” he bellowed, bowling past Peter once again on his way back, nearly toppling the poor boy over.

“As I said, no can do, fellah,” said Marlene coolly, seemingly unconcerned by the fact his wand was thrust under her chin. “Gotta let the magic do its work.”

“Come on, James,” said Sirius. He had finally managed to stop laughing for just long enough to sling his arm over his best friend’s shoulders. “No need to lose your temper.”

Remus moved forward to stand on James’ other side. “Yeah, it doesn’t even look that bad.”

“I think it looks  _wonderful_ ,” Leah cackled, before Rose whacked her on the arm. “Green really is your colour.”

“And those silver highlights…” Sirius kissed the tips of his fingers. “Just beautiful.”

“At least Slughorn will be pleased,” Lily tried, though she received nothing but a scowl from James.

He gritted his teeth, running a hand through his emerald and silver mop of hair. “You have ten seconds to start running McKinnon before I get my revenge.”

***

“What’s up, sunshine?”

Severus barely glanced up from his book, a strand of dark hair falling into his equally dark eyes. “Oh good,” he drawled. “You’re here. Had your fun with the Gryffindors, have you?”

“And what’s Lily then, hmm?” said Rose dryly, parking herself opposite him. “A Hufflepuff?”

That made him look up. “If you’d been paying any attention at all to my letters, you’d know that Lily and I have not been  _having fun_  at all. In fact, quite the opposite,” he snarled, snapping the book shut. Rose was just able to glance at the title before he shoved it into his robes –  _Potion Making: A study into the Dark Arts of Potions_.

“Fascinating read that,” she said, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “It’s really a wonder you don’t have more friends when you give them such interesting conversation starters.”

Severus looked as though he was about to say something equally mocking back, but was cut off by the arrival of the most popular girl in third year Slytherin. “Rose, you’re here!”

Rose almost didn’t have time to prepare herself as the girl threw her arms around her shoulders, squealing loudly into her ear. Rose winced, but forced herself to smile.

“Delilah!” she said politely, pushing her friend back to arm’s length. “It’s so good to see you again! How is Lucius?”

“Ugh, you know how it is,” said Delilah, rolling her eyes. Her platinum curls bobbed gently as she flopped onto the bench next to Rose, ignoring Severus completely. “Now he’s gone and gotten engaged, he’s absolutely  _insufferable_. All I ever hear from mother is ‘Oh you must treat your brother with  _respect_ , he’s about to become a man of his own household’, even though I swear to Merlin, I keep finding his dirty socks all  _over_  the house, and honestly, how am I ever meant to respect him when his feet smell like death and he wears socks with little snitches on them? I mean, is he five years old? Honestly. I don’t know how Narcissa puts up with it – she’s so put together, you know – and so beautiful! Anyway, my mother’s been hounding me day and night to start thinking about finding a suitable betrothed, but I’m only thirteen, and it just seems so premature! Teenage boys are so  _vile_ , one can hardly think about marrying one… Anyway, my dear, how was your summer?”

Rose blinked rapidly as she tried to comprehend everything that Delilah had just said, and then tried to think of something to say in response. Somehow, she didn’t think  _I spent my summer with my half-blood werewolf best friend_ was an appropriate response.

“Oh, you know, nothing in particular. I went to visit Molly and my new nephew.”

Delilah’s eyes lightened. “Oh yes, Colin!”

“Charlie.”

“That’s right, Charlie. Oh, was he absolutely wonderful?”

Delilah’s big blue eyes were shining with interest – Rose new that she had a soft spot for children.

“Yes, well… He was small.”

Delilah shook her head sadly. “It’s such a shame your sister had to marry into that family of blood traitors, or I might have been able to meet him.”

“It is a shame…” Rose murmured, trying to ignore the tightening in her stomach. Delilah’s way of discussing people in terms of their blood-status had never really bothered her before. Of course, she disagreed personally – she wouldn’t be friends with Lily, Remus, or even Severus if she didn’t – but she had always thought it a rather normal approach. As a pureblood witch, she wasn’t perturbed by the notion of blood purity. However, since Molly had married Arthur, she had gradually become more aware that they were treated differently, and she didn’t think that right at all. She supposed that spending a few weeks in the summer with them and their two young sons had made her more sympathetic to the cause.

“Oh, you haven’t seen Yelena have you?” Delilah mused, jolting Rose from her thoughts. “I said I’d meet her here on the train… she was busy making kissy faces at Rosier, and I just couldn’t put up with it for a  _second_ longer.”

“Really?” Rose asked quizzically. “I wouldn’t have thought it bothered you – I thought you had your eye on Avery.”

“ _Rose!_ ” hissed Delilah, turning them away from Severus as though he would care about their love lives in the slightest. “Not so loud!”

“Sorry, sorry… hey, isn’t that Yelena now?”

A tall, slim girl with olive skin and straight dark hair that reached her waist was walking into the hall, headed straight for the Slytherin table. Even the fact that she was noticeably rushing didn’t detract from her considerable beauty, and Rose felt a small bubble of envy in her chest as Yelena sashayed over to them.

“Alright, Dolohov?” said Rose, sipping her juice. Yelena grimaced in response.

“Watch out,” she murmured, with big grey eyes that she’d inherited from her mother’s Black family ties, “Dolores is coming.”

“Oh, absolutely not!” Delilah cried, her nose scrunching up in annoyance. “I absolutely  _refuse_  to speak to her a moment more than necessary.” Her eyes quickly fell upon the empty seat next to Severus. “Oh, quickly, find someone to fill that space! Rose, what about that little mudblood friend of yours?”

Rose’s cheeks flushed. “I told you not to call her that!”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” asked Yelena, readjusting her already perfect hair. “Frankly, I’d rather spend three hours locked in a broom cupboard with Dolores than share a table with  _her_.”

“Well, time to put your money where your mouth is,” muttered Delilah, jerking her head towards the entrance hall. Leah had walked in, and a little way behind her was Dolores, who caught sight of them immediately and began to speed up. She quickly overtook Leah, much to their combined chagrin, and it wasn’t soon until she was standing in front of them. Delilah turned her face away and gave Yelena a pleading look.

“Umbridge,” Yelena said coolly, looking down her nose at the stout girl in front of them.

“Yelena,” Dolores replied primly. Yelena’s left eye twitched at the use of her first name. “So nice to see you again. I assume that seat was saved for me?”

Yelena paused for a second, making grudging eye contact with Delilah. They reached a silent agreement. “What on earth gave you that impression? We were saving it for someone else actually – here she is now.” Yelena stood up and crossed her arms, towering over Dolores at her full height. “Leibowitz! Over here!”

Leah, who had been making her way over to an empty seat amongst some fifth years, jumped in surprise at the sound of her name. She did a double-take when she realised who was speaking, but did walk over to join them, if cautiously. She gave Rose a genuinely warm smile when she saw her, which only made Rose feel worse about the conversation she’d been involved in only minutes previously.

“Yelena,” she said politely, eyes carefully taking in the situation in front of her. “How was your summer?”

“Fine,” Yelena responded, gritting her teeth. “We saved you a seat.”

“Yes, sit down Lisa!” said Delilah emphatically, patting the table in front of the seat next to Severus, who she was still completely ignoring. Leah’s eyebrows furrowed as she realised what was happening, and she was about to reject the offer when she caught Rose’s eye. Although she knew it was wrong and terribly manipulative, Rose mouthed  _please_. Leah sighed quietly, and then put on a fake smile.

“Of course. I’d love to.” She walked around the table and sat down next to Severus, who simply rolled his eyes and turned his back to her. Dolores’ face had turned an interesting shade of purple, but she knew she had lost. Without another word, she turned on her heel and flounced off in the direction of the seat that Leah had been intending to sit in before.

“Thank Salazar,” Delilah breathed, crossing herself in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion. “Sleeping in the same room as her for the rest of the year is bad enough – I can’t sit with her at mealtimes as well.”

“I wouldn’t count your blessings just yet,” said Yelena, taking a sip of her drink. “She’s persistent, that one.”

Rose nudged Delilah lightly under the table, and when the blonde looked up, she inclined her head towards Leah and raised an eyebrow. Delilah groaned quietly, but took the hint.

“Thank you for helping Lisa,” she said stiffly, managing a strained smile.

“It’s Leah,” Leah replied without looking up from the table.

Yelena rounded on the girl almost instantly, her voice waspish. “Watch your tone,  _mudblood._ ”

“Hey now!” Rose interrupted, physically leaning over the table in between the two girls. “No need for name-calling! We all need to stick together or one of us will end up with Dolores for the rest of their time at Hogwarts, and it’s not going to be me!”

The rest of the girls fell silent after that, none of them wanting to cross Rose, who had come to be known as the motherly authority of the dorm. Still, Rose noticed that Yelena and Leah would occasionally shoot each other withering looks from across the table throughout the sorting ceremony and even into the meal. Not for the first time, Rose found herself glancing longingly over at the Gryffindor table, where Remus and Lily were chatting happily with each other and Sirius and James were laughing at something Peter had said.


	11. The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the purpose of a rose, anyway? Other than being a waste of space?"  
> "To look nice?"  
> "To woo Lily?"  
> "To nick your chocolate while your busy doing your transfiguration essay?"  
> "Finders keepers, Remus - and who exactly are you calling a waste of space, Black?"  
> ***  
> Rose Prewett's life was not going to plan, but at thirty-one years old, she's starting to believe this might be as good as it gets. However, after accepting the role of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts, Rose's life starts to go a lot more off track - although this time, maybe for the better. Between running after the Golden Trio and running away from her memories of the Marauders, Rose begins to realise that some of the best laid plans are left to fate...

**1991**

Being a teacher at Hogwarts wasn’t quite what Rose had expected. As a student, Rose had paid very little attention to the lives of her professors – as far as she had been concerned, the teachers turned up to her lessons and then disappeared into a kind of purgatory until the next meal/detention/lesson. It had never really occurred to her that the teachers lived in Hogwarts too. Now, as a teacher, she realised quite how much she had ignored as a student.

Perhaps the thing that alarmed her most was the fact that the teachers’ rooms had been just behind their offices this whole time. She wasn’t sure why, but that fact made her strangely uncomfortable. She thought back to all of her detentions with Professor McGonagall – it felt odd to know that her personal room had been only metres away. Rose wondered whether teachers ever engaged in secret trysts, then promptly abandoned that train of thought. It made her feel faintly queasy.

Instead, Rose set her suitcase down at the doorway and looked around her private rooms for the first time. It was a two-room complex, not including a bathroom, which was off the side of her bedroom. The kitchen and living room were in one open-plan space, decorated subtly with green and silver, as homage to her old house. It wasn’t nearly as homely as the Burrow, but it was a lot nicer than her flat in London, and Rose felt comfortable there. She soon set about moving her clothes into the wardrobe, the first thing she always did when moving somewhere new, checking it thoroughly for boggarts before doing so.

After her clothes were safely stashed away, Rose began to tackle the debris at the bottom of her suitcase and put it in its rightful place. Pyjamas, underwear, socks, and shirts and trousers all went in the chest of drawers. Makeup, toothbrush, toothpaste and any other toiletries went in the bathroom. Her hairbrush went on top of the dresser, next to a mirror that had been provided for her. With the practical things out of the way, Rose went about sifting through the more sentimental things she had packed.

There was a picture of the whole family from last Christmas, which went straight onto her desk in the office. She didn’t care if the students saw – her family was, and would always be, the most important thing in her life. She loved each and every one of them more than she could ever say, even Percy. The photograph of her and Molly, aged five and fifteen respectively, sat on her father’s knee with the ten-year-old twins sat on the floor in front of them, however, she deemed more private, and put on her mantelpiece instead. The same went for the picture of her and Lily on the latter’s wedding day, and a picture of Robin aged four.

Next in the suitcase were the letters – countless, numerous letters that Rose didn’t have the heart to throw away. In fact, Rose had never thrown away a letter in her life. Instead, they all lived in her memory box, under her bed, along with other sentimental titbits that people had given her through the years. That was where she slipped the box now, under her four-poster. She knew it was overly sentimental, but she couldn’t help herself.

After placing her antique china doll, Alice, onto the bed, Rose moved on the last thing she had thought to bring with her – her books. When it came to reading, Rose considered herself quite well-versed in the classics, and had brought a small selection of her favourites, just for comfort reading. She assumed she would acquire new ones without even trying during her time at Hogwarts, but she couldn’t imagine a bookshelf without these additions.  _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_  and  _Through the Looking-Glass_  were the first up, swiftly followed by the complete  _Narnia_  series. Then  _1984_  by George Orwell,  _Pride and Prejudice_  by Jane Austen, and  _Waiting for Godot_  by Samuel Beckett. Rose knew it was technically a screenplay, but enjoyed reading it anyway. The last three books were all poetry; a collection of Auden’s poems, a volume of Edgar Allan Poe, and Shakespeare’s Sonnets. A good selection, Rose thought to herself as she stroked the spines.

Unsure what to do with herself, and aware that she had no commitments for the day, Rose set about breaking in the quarters in the only way she knew how – by making a cup of tea. She filled the kettle at the tap, but before using her wand to bring the water to boil, she realised it was slightly chilly, and diverted her attention instead to lighting a fire. She aimed her wand at the neatly stacked wood – put there, she assumed, by house elves – and whispered  _incendio_. A fire immediately crackled to life. Rose sighed contentedly as the warmth hit her; she really did love magic.

She moved over to the kitchen and tapped briskly on the side of the kettle. The kettle whistled, indicating that the water had boiled, and poured it over a tea bag into a teacup and saucer. She chuckled to herself at the fact that Dumbledore had thought to provide his staff with complimentary teabags – a must have, of course. She sat down on the old, but comfortable, sofa, sipping on her tea and wondering what to do with the rest of her day. She had been sorting out lesson plans since the moment Dumbledore had offered her the job, so she had no need to do anymore of that at that exact moment. As she finished her cup of tea she decided that she should probably write to her family and tell them how she was getting on.

Setting the dirty cup by the side of the sink to be washed later, Rose left her quarters and entered her office, scouring the drawers of her desk for spare parchment, quills and ink. There were just enough scraps for a few letters, but Rose realised quite quickly that she would have to visit Hogsmeade before term started. Sitting down at her desk, Rose began to pen the first letter, one for her sister.

 

_Dear Molly and Arthur (and everyone else, of course),_

_Just wanted to let you know that I am all unpacked and ready to start teaching! Remind Fred and George that if they dare try and prank me on my first day, I will give them detention for the rest of the school year, and I won’t regret it._

_Have already made my first cup of tea – who knew that Dumbledore provided free teabags? Not me, but I’m incredibly thankful. I miss you all so much already – especially Robin – but have lit a fire and am trying to replicate the feeling of being at home. It’s not quite the same, but what is? All I know is it’s a lot better than dingy old Privet Drive, and I’m forever thankful that I never have to see Umbridge’s stupid face again._

_Shall visit you all as soon as possible, but I think I shall stay here for a while and settle in. Do let me know that Robin is on the train safely, won’t you? Can’t quite believe I won’t be there to send him off myself. Give him all my love and kisses, and tell him I shall see him soon!_

_Will send you lots of letters and keep you up to date._

_All my love,_

_Rosie xxx_

 

One letter down. Rose sat back in her chair, wondering who else to write to. Percy, Fred, George Ron and Robin she would all see very soon, but perhaps Ginny deserved her own letter. Charlie and Bill also probably needed one each. Rose wasn’t sure what to say, but she hoped that the words would come to her as she wrote. She decided to start with Ginny.

 

                 _Dear Gin,_

_Sure you have read my letter to your mum and dad, so won’t add much, but wanted you to know that I miss you very dearly, and that I hope you are taking good care of my clothes. I will write again when I have more to say, but for now I shall simply promise that my first trip into Hogsmeade, I shall send you as much Honeydukes chocolate as one owl can carry._

_Lots of love,_

_Aunty Rosie xxx_

 

It was nothing special, but Rose hoped that Ginny like it. She realised that it must be hard for Ginny to be the only one not attending Hogwarts that year. Next she moved onto Charlie.

 

                 _Dear Charlie,_

_Hope you’re well and that the dragons have eaten you. Just joking… kind of. I realise I’ve yet to let you know that I’m now a teacher at Hogwarts. That’s right, your favourite aunt is now a professor – I only wish you were still a student so I could give you extra History of Magic homework, because we all know it was your absolute favourite subject._

_Write to me when you can. I miss you, annoying as you are, and am interested in your life._

_Lots of love,_

_Aunty Rosie xxx_

 

Rose’s hand was starting to cramp, but she only had one more letter left, so she steeled herself and began again.

 

                 _Dear Bill,_

_In reference to your last letter – I have absolutely no idea about the interest rate on my vault at Gringotts. Should I? Can you advise me instead of just sending me fleeting, but worrying, inquiries? What use is a nephew who works at Gringotts if he can’t engage in a little nepotism. I thought you were a curse-breaker anyway, not an accountant._

_I am now teaching at Hogwarts, by the by – professor of History of Magic. Your mother worries about you often, but I fear I have little more to tell her than she already knows. You should visit soon – or at least, you should just visit me soon so I have something more substantial to say. I miss my favourite nephew._

_Love,_

_Aunty Rosie xxx_

 

Collecting the bits of parchment up in her hands, Rose folded each one up and sealed it with some wax, until she had four letters that an owl could carry. Then she made her way to the Owlery, the route familiar to her from her own days at Hogwarts. The History of Magic classroom, classroom 4F, was on the ground floor, so it was quite a trek, but Rose didn’t mind. It was the biggest classroom in all of Hogwarts, and closest to the kitchen and the Great Hall, so as far as Rose was concerned, it was ideally situated.

The Owlery smelt strange, like bird droppings, and the floor was littered with tiny rodent bones, but the view was magnificent. Rose also had a soft spot for all animals, but birds in particular, and so she loved meeting all the owls and cooing at them like some strange demented old lady. It was the one that cooed back that Rose took an immediate shining to. He was a small barn owl with kind eyes, and Rose was entrusted her letters to him, tying them carefully to his outstretched leg.

“Two to Mr and Mrs Weasley at the Burrow, that’s in Devon,” said Rose slowly so that the owl understood, “one to Charlie Weasley in Romania, and one to Bill Weasley in Egypt. Do you understand?”

The owl clucked happily, which Rose assumed was a yes.

“Excellent. Go on then! Off with you.”

The owl nuzzled her hand affectionately before flying off into the afternoon sky. Rosie watched it go, leaning on the railing of the balcony. She let out a breath, and watched as it misted up in the cool September air, her mind already drifting towards the future. Would she be a good teacher? She hoped so, and that would have to be good enough for now. Pushing herself off the railing, Rose began to descend the stairs; there was another cup of tea and a warm fire waiting for her in her rooms that she couldn’t resist any longer.

***

 _Two lefts, a right, the third door down and…_  There it was – the staff room. It was quite an innocuous door really; no wonder Rose had never noticed it at school. She had a strange feeling that Fred and George knew exactly where it was however, a fact that worried her mightily. This being said, it still didn’t worry her as much as what she was about to do.

It wasn’t that she was  _scared_  exactly – the feeling would be better described as a crippling onslaught of nerves that had taken root in the bottom of her stomach and made her feel more than a little nauseated. As soon as she stepped over the threshold of that door, Rose would have to take her place at the staff meeting, and thereby accept the responsibility of being a professor once and for all. The thought made her feel ill. She didn’t even  _like_  History of Magic – no one did. It was the most boring subject at the school. No wonder Dumbledore had resorted to hiring her; she doubted there was anyone else desperate enough to take the job. Oh, if  _only_  she was teaching potions… Or maybe Herbology…

Her hand faltered over the door handle.  _Alright, breathe…_  But still she couldn’t bring herself to walk through.

“You know,” said a voice behind her that made her jump, “you have to press down on the handle to make the door work.”

Rose swivelled round on the spot, coming face to face with Professor Sprout. The Herbology teacher was watching her, wearing a suitably amused expression. Rose laughed nervously.

“Ah, Professor Sprout! I was just… err…”

“I know what you were doing, Rose,” interrupted Professor Sprout. “You were panicking.”

Rose shook her head airily, pretending that the suggestion was preposterous. “Panicking is a very strong term, professor –”

“Strong, but true,” said Sprout, her eyes twinkling with humour. “It’s alright, Rose, we all get nervous. And there’s no need to call me professor away from the students – it’s Pamona.”

She held out her hand, rough from years of gardening, to Rose. Rose tentatively took it, smiling weakly. It was an odd sensation, being reintroduced to a woman she had known for years, only now on a personal level. Professor Sprout grinned back.

“Now, I know it’s nerve-wracking, but if we don’t get inside within the next two minutes, Minerva  _will_  have an aneurysm, so I think it’s time to bite the bullet.”

Rose bit her lip. “You’re right.” She grasped the door and whispered, “Bombs away…” before throwing it open.

All the other teachers were already seated, bar Professor Sprout, who gently guided Rose inside the room. It was almost fully occupied by a large table. Rose’s attention was immediately drawn to the giant form of Hagrid, who was sat closest to the door. He grinned and winked at her as she walked past. Professor Dumbledore shot her a merry smile from where he was sat at the head of the table; Professor McGonagall looked at the new arrivals sternly from Dumbledore’s right-hand side, but Rose got the feeling she didn’t really mind that they were slightly late. If Rose was right, then she suspected that Professor Sprout was often late to these things.

On Dumbledore’s other side was Severus Snape, and next to him sat Professor Flitwick. Rose assumed that the seats were therefore reserved for the heads of houses, and she was proved correct when Sprout took the seat next to McGonagall, indicating that Rose should sit next to her. Rose found herself sat opposite Professor Hooch and in between Professors Sprout and Kettleburn. It was an incredibly long table, necessary to accommodate all of the staff, and Rose noticed there were a lot of whispers when she sat down. Clearly, Professor Dumbledore had not warned them about the new staff member.

“Now that we are all here,” said Professor Dumbledore cheerfully, looking over the top of his half-moon spectacles at the parchment in front of him, “let us begin by introducing our new staff member, Rose Prewett, who will be taking over from the long-serving Cuthbert Binns as Professor of History of Magic.”

There were murmured welcomes from the staff, the majority of whom remembered her from her student days; Professor Kettleburn gave her a hearty handshake with the arm he still had – she had been a particular favourite of his.

“Good to have you here, Rose,” he said, winking. “Old Cuthbert was terminally boring, both personally and professionally… I absolutely loathed sitting next to him at these things.”

Rose smiled in thanks, stifling a laugh at his comment.

“Please welcome also Charity Burbage,” said Professor Dumbledore, indicating to a woman sat further down the table, who bowed her head in recognition. “Charity will be our new Muggle Studies professor now that Quirinus has taken on the role of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Again, a chorus of welcomes followed. Charity Burbage seemed a lot more comfortable than Rose, as though she had experience in teaching.

“As usual,” continued Dumbledore, “Argus has refused our offer to attend the meeting, but would like to express his annoyance that he has to take on the extra role of keeping students out of the third floor corridor this year. For that reason, I implore all of you to do all you can to help him, and keep on the lookout for rebellious students who may think to explore, unaware as they are of the seriousness of the situation.”

Dumbledore’s eyes flicked briefly over to Rose, and she couldn’t help but feel that he was thinking specifically of Fred and George. However, she found herself more interested in why exactly the third floor corridor was being closed off than she was her nephews’ less than shining reputations.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Dumbledore began to address the issue. “Many of you may be wondering why we are closing off the third floor corridor this year,” he began gravely, placing his fingertips together. “My close personal friend, Nicholas Flamel, has requested that I help him protect his greatest discovery: the Philosopher’s Stone.”

There were murmurings up and down the table, though Rose noticed that the more senior staff seemed unsurprised, as though they had already been informed. Rose herself had no idea who or what they were all talking about, so kept mum, hoping Dumbledore would elaborate.

“As we all know, Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world, so I agreed that the stone could be stored here. It has been transferred from Gringotts to the castle very recently, where Minerva, Filius, Pamona, Severus, Quirinus and myself have worked tirelessly to ensure that it will be protected. I assure you there is no need to be concerned, but I must emphasise that under no circumstances are the students to be informed, for their own safety. I cannot say why Nicholas is so concerned about the stone, but if someone is trying to steal it, we can assume it is for less than honourable reasons, and the would-be thief is unlikely to care about harming our students. Therefore, we must do our best to protect them.”

A sombre silence fell over the room. Rose herself was more than a little alarmed – when she had taken the job, she had no idea that Hogwarts might be infiltrated by a reckless thief. If she had, she might not have accepted Dumbledore’s offer. Her job at the Ministry might not have been thrilling, but at least she had been safe.

 _Safe, yes,_  thought her inner voice,  _but if you had stayed working under Umbridge any longer, you would have been incarcerated in Azkaban for murder…_

“Irma has moved all of the books in the library detailing the existence of the Philosopher’s Stone to the restricted section,” said Dumbledore, interrupting Rose’s train of thought. “If you desire to know more, I will not prohibit you from taking these books out, but I expect you to keep them well out of the grasp of students.” Dumbledore suddenly smiled, as though a great weight had be lifted of him. “Now, to happier matters! Minerva, I believe you have some notices to give out concerning the points system?”

“Yes,” said Professor McGonagall in her thick Scottish accent, “and then Rolanda would like to announce the dates of the Quidditch matches…”

Rose half-concentrated to what the deputy headmistress was saying, but she couldn’t help her mind from wandering to the Philosopher’s Stone. What was it, she wondered, and why was it so important?

***

“So, how are your new quarters treating you?”

Rose turned around at the sound of the voice to see Professor Sprout stood next to her, also helping herself to sandwiches. After the meeting, Professor McGonagall had vanished away the long table, replacing it with a much smaller one, covered by a tablecloth. On top of the table were teapots, coffee pots, jugs of juice, squash and milk, a sugar pot, trays of biscuits and plates of triangle sandwiches in a variety of different flavours. Rose had awkwardly followed the rest of the staff, who had immediately began helping themselves, a little worried that by the time she actually reached the table, everything would be gone. However, it became apparent that everything magically refilled, and Rose soon found herself holding a mug of sweet peppermint tea, as well as a plate with several cheese sandwiches and digestive biscuits. She had been guiltily helping herself to another sandwich when Professor Sprout had spoken up.

“Oh, just wonderfully!” said Rose, internally cringing at how immature she sounded. “I’m all unpacked and ready to go… practically, anyway. Although, that reminds me,” she said, pausing to take a sip of tea, “I need to visit Hogsmeade before term starts for parchment, ink and quills…”

“Well, you’d better get on that soon,” said Professor Sprout as they made their way over to some armchairs and sat themselves down. “The students will have emptied the whole street out before you can say ‘Quidditch’ at this time of year.”

Rose grimaced. “I’ll head off tomorrow in that case.”

“Probably for the best. You might also want to grab some firewood – the rooms on the first floor always manage to get quite chilly, and your classroom is so grand…”

“I can help with that,” came a gruff voice suddenly from behind Rose’s head. She craned her neck to see that Hagrid was standing behind her chair. His own plate looked tiny in his hand, although the amount of food piled on top of it still seemed immense. “Got plenty o’ wood down by the forest.”

“Oh, are you sure, Hagrid?” said Rose, squinting up at the giant. “I wouldn’t want to put you out, I can always get my own…”

“Not at all, it’s me job! Although,” he added, lowering his voice, “a bottle o’ Fire Whiskey wouldn’ go amiss…”

Rose grinned back. “Consider it a deal.”

She hummed happily to herself as she returned to her quarters after the meeting had finished. All in all, she considered it a success – she hadn’t made a fool out of herself, and no one seemed to hate her, except for Snape, which was to be expected. In fact, a great number of the teachers seemed to like her, which was an added bonus. She had even agreed to meet Pamona for tea the next day before the students arrived, and Hagrid had said she was free to visit his hut anytime.

As she climbed down the stairs to the first floor, Rose felt as though nothing could diminish her good mood. She should have known it was all too good to be true.

She could hear the footsteps following her, though she had thought nothing of it until she heard the swish of a cloak as the professor came to walk beside her. She had known it was Snape even before he opened his mouth; the man’s mere presence made her skin prickle with unease.

“So,” he drawled, not bothering to look at her. His sneer was still evident however, plastered as it was all over his face. “The prodigal Prewett returns… Oh, no, wait – that was your brothers.” He smirked evilly. “My mistake.”

Rose’s stomach churned at the mention of her late brothers, though she knew well enough not to rise to it. Instead, she pulled a mock confused face, also not looking directly at her unwanted companion. “But Professor Snape, I do believe I beat you by one mark in N.E.W.T. level potions – or have you forgotten?”

It was something the Potions Master couldn’t deny, but he instantly found another way to get under her skin. “And what use you put it to at the Ministry – I’m sure there’s not another staff member at Hogwarts who is as  _skilled_  as making tea as you are.”

His voice was silky smooth, like a viper’s hiss. Rose wanted to trip him up – she thought the image of him, sprawled out on the corridor, tangled up in his black robes, would be very amusing.  _James and Sirius would have approved._  She supressed the urge.

“What do you want, Severus?” she asked coldly, relishing in having the authority to use his first name.

“Nothing but you’re resignation,  _Rose_ ,” he murmured as he began descending the stairs that led to the dungeons.

“Well you’ll be waiting a long time,” she called back to him, wishing she could think of something wittier to say.

“I’m a patient man,” was his reply, drifting back to her up the stairs. She scowled – if she had her way, his resignation would be the one to come first.

***

“– packed with muggles, of course –”

Robin wasn’t listening to his aunt, which was hard to do considering that Mrs Weasley’s voice had a tendency to pierce even the deepest daydreams. He wasn’t even listening to his twin cousins as they teased him about how the sorting hat was going to send him straight to Slytherin like his mother. Robin wasn’t, in fact, focussed on anyone in his family. Instead, his eyes were glued to the boy with glasses and messy black hair, stood a few feet away, clearly working up the courage to come over to talk to them.

Robin tugged on his aunt’s sleeve.

“Now, what’s the platform number?”

Ginny jumped up and down in excitement. “Platform nine and three quarters! Mum, can’t I go…”

“You’re not old enough Ginny, now be quiet. Alright Percy, you go first.”

Percy strolled through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Robin tugged again. “Aunt Molly?”

“Fred, you next.”

“I’m not Fred, I’m George!” replied Fred. “Honestly woman, call yourself our mother? Can’t you  _tell_  I’m George?”

“Sorry, George, dear.”

“Only joking, I am Fred.”

Fred ran through the barrier, George following close behind.

“Ginny, don’t tug at my sleeve, you’ll pull it off.”

“That’s not me!” said Ginny, affronted. “I’m over here, minding my own business!”

“ _Aunt Molly!_ ”

Mrs Weasley looked down at last, concern plastered onto her face. “Oh, Robin, it’s you! What is it, dear?”

“I think he needs our help.”

Robin pointed at Harry, who was still watching them cautiously from the side-lines. Mrs Weasley blinked in surprise, before her face broke out into a kind smile. “Hullo dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron and Robin are new too.”

Ron gave an awkward little wave before turning bright red. Robin eyed Harry warily, wondering if he was going to introduce himself to Mrs Weasley. Harry, however, seemed to have been thrown off by Robin’s extended family, who were strangers to him, and thus neglected to mention that they already knew each other.

His voice was stuttering with nerves. “Yes. The thing is – the thing is, I don’t know how to –”

“How to get onto the platform?” said Mrs Weasley gently. Robin could feel the urge to envelop him in a hug radiating from her, and marvelled at her restraint. “Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now, before these two.”

Robin watched as a very disconcerted Harry dubiously pushed his trolley in front of the barrier. The black-haired boy began walking slowly towards it, being jostled to and fro by people rushing to catch their trains.

“He’s going to crash into it,” Ron said glumly. Mrs Weasley frowned.

“Hush, you!”

Robin didn’t like to admit it, but he thought his cousin was probably right. However, Harry surprised them all by gliding seamlessly through the brickwork and into the station on the other side.

“There, see!” said Mrs Weasley smugly. “All it takes is a little confidence. You next, Robin – if you see him on the other side, give him a hand.”

“Alright.” Robin hoped desperately that Harry would have disappeared into the crowd before it got to that, but dutifully strode towards the barrier, following his aunt’s advice and pretending he wasn’t terrified of smashing his face in. He closed his eyes just before the moment of impact, and was relieved to find that it never came – instead, he found himself on platform nine and three quarters, buffeted by students as they rushed past with their trunks, parents hot on their heels. For a second, he wasn’t sure where to go or what to do, but then he heard a familiar voice over the chatter of the crowd.

“Oi, Robin! Over here, mate!”

George’s red hair was just visible over a gaggle of students all gathered around something. Robin carefully navigated this trolley towards them, Merlin squawking merrily from his cage, and the students parted like the Red Sea as he did so to reveal Lee Jordan, Fred and George’s best friend, holding a rather large box. Lee grinned.

“Aight, Robin? Come to see the show?”

Robin frowned. He had only met Lee a few times, when the twins had invited him to the burrow during the summer and he had happened to be visiting at the same time. “What show? What’s in the box?”

 Lee’s smirk grew even bigger if that was possible, and he began to open the lid of the box – before he could finish, however, Fred slammed it shut.

“Not Robin, Lee – he’s deathly afraid, you’ll give him a heart attack.”

George nodded, steering his little cousin away by the shoulders. “Yeah, and I really don’t want to face Aunty Rose if he dies before he even gets to Hogwarts. I need to pass my History of Magic OWL, thanks very much.”

“What was in the box?” Robin asked as the twins practically carried him away from Lee, who looked rather miffed.

Fred shared a look with his brother. “Nothing you need worry about. Where’s mum, anyway?”

Robin was about to answer that he wasn’t exactly sure when he spotted Harry from the corner of his eye, struggling to lift his trunk into one of the train carriages. “He’s going to squash himself.”

Robin didn’t realise he had said that aloud until George replied, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Want a hand?”

The last bit was louder and directed at Harry, who looked up. He seemed both scared and thankful. “Yes, please.”

“Right you are. Come on, Fred.”

“Don’t move,” said Fred to Robin, before joining his brother in assisting Harry get his trunk on the train. Robin, quite the opposite of running away, pushed his trolley closer, certain that his mother would want him to look out for Harry as much as possible.

“Thanks,” said Harry as the three of them finally succeeded, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. Robin let out an audible gasp at the lightning-shaped scar that action revealed, and Harry quickly dropped his hand. Too late though – the twins had seen it.

“What’s that?” said Fred immediately.

George blinked. “Blimey, are you –?”

Fred nodded. “He is. Aren’t you?”

“Guys, let him be…” Robin said quietly, though no one was listening.

Harry didn’t quite seem to understand what was happening. “What?”

“ _Harry Potter_ ,” they responded in unison.

Harry blushed, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Oh, him. I mean, yes, I am.”

Fred and George simply stared. The awkwardness may have continued for much longer had Mrs Weasley’s voice not suddenly rung out, loud and clear across the platform.

“Fred? George? Are you there? Where’s Robin?”

“We’re coming, Aunt Molly!” Robin yelled back, grateful for the distraction. He jerked his head to where she was stood with Ginny and Ron. “Move it, you two, before she gets in a right tizzy.”

Fred and George took one last look at Harry before following Robin’s advice and making their way over to Mrs Weasley. Harry smiled thankfully at Robin, who nodded in response, before joining the rest of his family further down the platform.

Mrs Weasley was busy fussing over her youngest son by the time he arrived.

“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose.”

She leant over with her handkerchief to try to rub it off, but Ron batted her away. “ _Mum –_ geroff.”

Fred sniggered. “Aah, has ickle Ronniekins got somefink on his nosie?”

“Shut up.”

Mrs Weasley’s brow furrowed. “Where’s Percy?”

Robin pointed behind her, where Percy was striding towards them. “He’s coming now.”

“Can’t stay long, mother,” announced Percy rather pompously as he came to stand with them. “I’m up front, the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –”

“Oh, are you a  _Prefect_ , Percy?” said George with mock surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

Fred looked thoughtful. “Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it. Once –”

“Or twice –”

“A minute –”

“All summer –”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped their older brother, looking as though he’d really love to throttle them.

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway,” said George, tugging at Percy’s sleeve and narrowly avoiding being swatted.

“Because he’s a  _Prefect_ ,” Mrs Weasley said with great pride, pinching Percy’s cheek.

“And her favourite,” Robin added matter-of-factly, earning him a sour look from his aunt.

“You watch it, Christopher Prewett. I may not be your mother, but I can still cuff you around the ears for being a Smart Aleck.”

Robin held up his hands in surrender. Mrs Weasley turned back to Percy.

“Alright, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there.”

After allowing his mother a quick peck on the cheek, he left them to join the other Prefects, and it was time for Mrs Weasley to round on the twins.

“Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one owl from your Aunt Rose telling me you’ve – you’ve blown up a toilet seat, or –”

“Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.”

“Great idea though, thanks, Mum.”

“It’s _not funny_. And look after Ron and your cousin.”

“Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”

“As is our very own Christopher Robin,” said George in a twee voice, ruffling Robin’s hair and earning himself a smack on the arm.

“Does this make Ronald Pooh Bear?” asked Fred, tongue in cheek.

“Shut up,” muttered Ron.

“Hey mum,” said Fred, with a sly grin. “Guess what? Guess who we just met on the train? You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?”

Robin’s stomach plummeted.

“Who?”

“ _Harry Potter!_ ”

Ginny’s face lit up. “Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please…”

“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in the zoo. Is it really Fred? Surely Robin would have recognised him?”

The twins looked confused. “Robin?” asked George. “Why would Robin of all people recognise him?”

“Because they’re neighbours.”

Ginny’s mouth fell open. “You’re Harry Potter’s  _neighbour_?”

Robin wished the ground would swallow him whole. “Yeah – but it’s really not that exciting,” he said quickly, noticing the look on the her face. “He’s just like any other boy really.”

“Oh, Robin, why didn’t you tell me?” Mrs Weasley asked, shaking her head disappointedly. “I would have made more of an effort. Poor  _dear_  – no wonder he was alone. Rose did warn me of course, but I didn’t think… I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”

Mrs Weasley stopped musing over what had happened earlier instantly, and her face became very grave. “I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don’t you dare,” she added as the elder twin pulled a puppy-dog face at his mother. “As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school.”

“All right, keep your hair on.”

From somewhere on the platform, a conductor’s whistle blew.

“Hurry up!” said Mrs Weasley suddenly, as the boys clambered to lift Robin’s trunks and Merlin’s cage onto the train. Once the door was closed, the four of them did their very best to lean out of the window at the same time, each receiving a kiss on the cheek from Mrs Weasley. Ginny began to cry.

“Don’t Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.”

“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.”

“ _George!_ ”

“Only joking, Mum.”

The train moved away, and soon it was simply a speck in the distance, though Ginny had done her best to run after it. Ron turned to Robin as the latter attempted to drag his trunk down the hallway, Merlin under his arm.

“I’m going to see if I can sit with Potter. You coming?”

Robin bit his lip, feeling guilty for what he was about to do. “Nah, I’m alright. You have fun.”

Ron gave him an odd look, but didn’t argue. Robin tried not to think about what his mother would say as he stumbled up the hall, looking for an empty-ish compartment. Eventually he came across one with only one occupant, a girl who looked to be around his age, with frizzy brown hair, who was already changed into her school robes. She had her nose in a book –  _Hogwarts: A History –_  and was seemingly so engrossed that she didn’t hear him knock and only noticed his arrival when he slid the door open.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked.

Her brown eyes widened in surprise, but she shook her head. “No, it’s fine – help yourself.”

Robin smiled awkwardly as he shuffled in, attempting to lift his trunk into the bag rack, but then deciding against it, abandoning it on the floor instead, carefully resting Merlin’s cage on top. He clucked in response. The girl looked on with what he sensed was disapproval, but continued to pretend that she was reading as he settled himself next to the window, content to spend the next few hours in silence watching the world pass by. It seemed that the girl was unable to supress the urge to speak, however.

“I’m Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger.”

Robin nodded in acknowledgement of that fact. “I’m Christopher Prewett – but everyone calls me Robin.”

Hermione smiled shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, Robin.”

“You too, Hermione.”

Assuming that the pleasantries were over with, Robin leant back in his chair and resumed scenery watching. Hermione had other plans.

“Are you a first-year too?”

Robin nodded again. “Yep.”

A moment of quiet.

“And you come from a family of wizards and witches?”

“Yup. One of the oldest wizarding families, in fact.”

Hermione’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “How interesting.”

A small pause.

“My parents are muggles.”

Another pause whilst Robin tried to think of a response.

“Cool.”

Yet another pause, lasting even less time than the previous.

“Do you know what house you’ll be sorted into?”

Robin was beginning to wish he had just bit the bullet and joined Ron and Harry. At least he could have had some peace in the uncomfortable silence.

“Not really, no. My whole family’s been in Gryffindor, but my mum was a Slytherin, and my dad –” He stopped. “I don’t know, actually. I assume Slytherin as well. We don’t talk about him much.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Why is that?”

“Uh… I don’t know.”

“Do you know your father?”

A small wave of irritation washed over Robin. “You ask a lot of questions.”

She turned bright red. “I’m sorry… I …”

It appeared that she couldn’t think of anything to say in response. At last, she fell mum, lifting the book to hide her face so that he couldn’t see it burning. Robin felt bad that he had snapped at her.

“What about your parents? What do they do – in the muggle world?”

Hermione’s eyes appeared over the top of her book again. “They’re dentists.”

Robin nodded. “The teeth people, right?”

“Yeah, the teeth people,” she said. He couldn’t see it, but he thought she was smirking behind the hardback. “Do you not have those here?”

“Oh, we have them. They’re just a special branch of Healers.”

Her eyebrows knotted together in confusion. “Healers?”

Robin sighed and chewed at his lip, trying to think of the word he was looking for. “I think muggles call it a doctor.”

Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape in understanding. Robin, who felt he was getting somewhere, was about to ask how she had discovered she was a witch when the door to the compartment slid open to reveal a kindly looking old lady pushing a trolley laden to the brim with sweets and treats. He smiled in recognition – his mother didn’t like to talk about her days at Hogwarts for some reason, but this was one of the few things she had discussed in great length with him.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” the lady asked, smiling pleasantly. Robin grinned at Hermione, who looked confused.

“What do you want?” Robin asked her, jangling the change in his pocket. “I recommend the Chocolate Frogs – they’re my mum’s favourite.”

Hermione cocked her head to one side. “What about you? What’s your favourite?”

Robin smiled. “Liquorice Wands.”

For a second, she hesitated, but then reached into her pocket for some spare change. She stopped, however, when Robin reached forward and put a restraining hand on her arm. “Don’t – I’ll pay. My treat.”

Hermione tried to protest, but Robin could be stubborn when he wanted to be, and he treated her to a pumpkin pasty and a cauldron cake. True to his word, Robin stocked up on liquorice wands, though not before buying a few chocolate frogs for his mother. They ate in companionable silence, but after they had finished, it wasn’t long until Hermione went back to her friendly interrogation.  _Where do you come from?_ (Born in London, lived in Provence for a while, then to Surrey) _Does that mean you speak French?_ (Yes, but not very well)  _Do you have any brothers and sisters?_ (They were both only children, but Robin had seven cousins who he saw on a semi-regular basis).

“What about your mother?” asked Hermione. Robin noted that she didn’t ask about his father, which was a relief. “What does she do for a living?”

“Well, she used to teach Potions at Beauxbatons, which is another magic school in France. That’s why we lived there. Then she joined the Ministry –”

“The Ministry of Magic?” Hermione interrupted. Robin kept forgetting she needed clarification over the simplest things.

“Yeah, in the Department for the Regulation of Dangerous Magical Creatures. And this year she’s teaching at Hogwarts.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Your mother teaches at  _Hogwarts?_ ”

Robin couldn’t help but feel a small bubble of pride. “Starting this year. Not Potions though – History of Magic.”

His companion was about to start gushing – he could tell by the way her lips were twitching – but she was distracted by a knock at the door. Behind the glass was a rather worried looking blond boy, with a round face and robes that were slightly off centre. Robin waved that he should come in, and he did so, though with great trepidation.

“Hullo – sorry to interrupt, but I don’t suppose either of you have seen a toad?”

Robin blinked in surprise at the question. “A toad?”

The boy nodded miserably. “His name’s Trevor. I’ve lost him, and my gran will be ever so mad if she finds out I lost him on the first day…”

Robin knew what he was angling at, but was disinclined to help. He didn’t really want to spend his first trip on the Hogwarts Express searching for a missing toad. However, Hermione was giving him a look of gentle encouragement from the other side of the compartment. He sighed.

“What’s your name?”

“Neville,” said the boy quickly. “Neville Longbottom.”

“Well Neville, I’m Robin, and this is –”

“Hermione,” said Hermione quickly, sticking out her hand for Neville to shake. He eyed it warily before doing so. “Hermione Granger. We’ll help you find Trevor, don’t worry!”

Robin groaned inwardly, but did his best to smile. “Of course. Just let me change into my robes and I’ll be right with you.”

***

The robes fit perfectly, though Robin thought they looked rather odd without the colourful tie and badge depicting which house you were in. He hadn’t really given any thought as to which house he would be sorted into until Hermione had mentioned it, but now he found himself preoccupied by the question. He didn’t particularly care for Ravenclaw, and he thought that Hufflepuff , although not terrible, wasn’t for him. So it was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he concluded. Gryffindor would be easier – his mother had always said that being a Slytherin was difficult, and that had only gotten worse after the First Wizarding War. And it meant he could be with Ron, who was undoubtedly going there.

Robin shook his head violently to dispel the confusing thoughts and stepped out of the compartment into the corridor, where he almost instantly ran into Hermione.

“Alright?” he asked, looking her up and down – she looked a lot more hassled than she had been twenty minutes ago when she had set off with Neville.

“Where have you  _been_?” huffed Hermione, crossing her arms. “You’ve been absolutely  _no_  help finding Trevor.”

Robin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying not to let her in on the fact that it had been his goal all along. “Oh, yes, Trevor – how’s that going?”

Hermione simply sighed. “Not well – Neville’s distraught.”

“Ah well,” murmured Robin as they walked along the corridor, heading nowhere in particular. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

They ambled in silence for a while, though Robin noted that Hermione wasn’t particularly suited towards ambling. She kept trying to direct Robin back towards their compartment, though he studiously ignored her and continued to explore the train. As they passed into the second carriage however, her face lit up.

“Oh, Robin, you’ll never guess who’s in this compartment!”

She pointed to the compartment on her left. Robin pretended to seem thoughtful.

“Hmm… Harry Potter?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” murmured Robin, trying to hide his smirk. The smirk was short-lived, however, as before he could stop her, Hermione had bounded into Harry’s compartment, forcing Robin to follow. He grimaced and stepped into the compartment just in time to hear Hermione exclaim loudly.

“What  _has_  been going on?”

Robin’s eyes widened as he took in Harry and Ron, stood in the middle of a huge mess of sweet wrappers. “Merlin, it looks like someone cast confringo in here…”

Ron didn’t acknowledge either of them, instead picking up Scabbers by the tail, who had been hidden by a Chocolate Frog box. “I think he’s been knocked out. No – I don’t believe it – he’s gone back to sleep.”

He shook his head in despair, whilst Robin watched on in confusion. “That doesn’t help explain anything.”

Again, Ron didn’t pay any notice to his cousin, instead turning to Harry. “You’ve met Malfoy before?”

“Yeah,” said Harry slowly, readjusting his glasses. “With Robin, actually.”

At last, Ron looked over at Robin and Hermione. “What?”

“In Diagon Alley,” said Robin, uncomfortable with the attention now he had it. “It wasn’t that exciting.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Well, you did punch him in the face.”

Ron swivelled on the spot. “You  _punched_  him?  _You_?”

Hermione too was shocked. “You punched someone in the face?  _With_  Harry Potter?”

Robin frowned in annoyance. “Yes. But he was asking for it.”

“I can’t believe it,” muttered Ron, dazed. “You’re supposed to be the  _good_  one in the family. I wish we’d managed to punch him… slimy git. I’ve heard of the Malfoys. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s dad didn’t need a reason to go over to the Dark Side.” He glanced over at Hermione, and Robin noticed the irritation in his eyes. “Can we help you with something?”

“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on, I’ve just been up the front to ask the driver and he says we’re nearly there.” She wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”

“Scabbers has been fighting, not us,” Ron retorted hotly. “Would you mind leaving while we change?”

Hermione sniffed. “Alright. We just came in here because I didn’t think Robin had met Harry, but I see now I was wrong. And you’ve got dirt on your nose by the way, did you know?”

She flounced out of the compartment. Robin shot the two boys a resigned smile before following her. He caught up with her at the end of the corridor – her frizzy brown hair was easily identifiable among the crowds of giggling first years.

“Hey – sorry I didn’t tell you about the Harry thing. I didn’t think it was that important.”

“It’s fine,” she said haughtily, though by her tone he could tell it wasn’t. Before he could respond, however, a disembodied voice floated through the train, cutting him off.

“ _We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately._ ”

“Ah, thank goodness,” said Robin jovially, trying to diffuse the tension. “I can’t imagine lugging that trunk of mine all the way to the castle.”

Hermione ‘hmphed’ in response. She stayed fairly unresponsive as the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station and the students all descended onto the platform, though she did brighten up when she encountered Hagrid, who was guiding the first years towards a narrow path down towards a lake.

“Is that a –”

“A giant?” asked Robin. “Yeah, it is.”

“Alright, Chris?” said Hagrid, beaming down at them both. Robin smiled back.

“Yes, thank you Hagrid!”

The first years followed the giant down the path and to the lake, where they came across a fleet of boats. Above the lake, on the top of a mountain, sat Hogwarts castle. Most of the first years gasped when they saw it, and even Robin felt a sense of awe overcome him at his sheer magnificence.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid bellowed as the first years clambered in to the little rowing boats. Robin and Hermione found themselves in a boat with Harry and Ron, much to the latter’s chagrin. Everyone was quiet as they sailed across the lake, too nervous to speak, even near the end when they had to crouch down and pass under the cliff and emerged in an underground harbour.

“Oy, you there!” Hagrid called as Neville left his boat. “Is this your toad?”

“Trevor!”

Neville looked truly overjoyed. They clambered up a small passageway that took them right in front of the castle, so they were stood on the steps of two massive oak doors.

“Everyone here?” asked Hagrid, scanning the faces of the children. “You there, still got yer toad?”

Neville nodded, and Hagrid, reassured, turned to the doors and knocked three times.

 

***** _Author's Note***_**

**Ahhhhh, over 100 readers! Thank you all so much! In celebration, I've decided to do a little giveaway:**

**FIRST PLACE: a 2000 word HP fic of your choice of pairing**

**SECOND PLACE: a 1000 word HP fic of your choice of pairing**

**THIRD PLACE: a 500 word HP fic of your choice of pairing**

**If you're interested, all you have to do is go to my Tumblr ([loony-loopy-luna.tumblr.com/](https://loony-loopy-luna.tumblr.com/)) and send me an ask with a prediction for the plot of this story! The first three people to predict something correctly will get a fic! Please put the request in the same ask as your prediction so that if you ask on anon, I don't have to try and work out how to get in contact with you again!**

**Just a few guidelines - I don't do smut, and only age-appropriate/decent pairings please.**

**Thank you again, and lots of love! <3**

**LoonyLoopyLuna xxx**

**P.S. Sorry about the typo earlier that said 'red and gold' instead of 'silver and green'. Has now been corrected! So many plots, I'm losing track! ;)**


	12. Lessons and Leah

**1973**

“Remus. Hey, Remus. REMUS.”

“Wha –” Remus jumped as the orange hit him square in the face, then scowled. “Sirius, what the hell! What are you, five?”

“Well, I’m so sorry,” said Sirius, with a smirk that suggested he wasn’t sorry in the slightest, “but I wasn’t sure how else to get your attention. I’m surprised you haven’t burnt a hole in Prewett’s head at this point.”

“Shut up!” hissed Remus, his cheeks burning. “I’m not doing anything.”

James scoffed as he poured himself yet another bowl of cornflakes. “Please, Remus. You were staring at her so intently that you completely missed when Peter accidentally slipped and smashed his head into the table.”

Remus looked to his right to see that Peter was indeed in the process of trying to stem a rather viscous nose bleed. “Christ, Peter, that’s nasty! How did you manage that?”

“Slytherinds,” he muttered thickly, his nasal passage still blocked. “Thought it would be funny to trip me up.”

“In fairness, it was,” Sirius said blithely. He took a large sip of pumpkin juice before smacking his lips obnoxiously loudly, causing Lily Evans to shoot him a disgusted look from where she sat further down the table with Marlene.

“Thanks so much, Sirius.”

James leant over the table and gave Peter a hearty clap on the shoulder, almost dislodging the poor boy from his seat. “Don’t worry, Pete, we’ll get Mulciber back soon enough – as soon as Quidditch try-outs are over and done with, we’ll meet up in the common room this evening and come up with a plan.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he helped himself to another slice of toast – the first had gone cold in his hand. “Really, what even is the point? We all know you’re just going to stink bomb the dungeons again.”

“I take offence at that,” said James. “I can be very imaginative when I want to be.”

“Eyes up boys,” muttered Sirius, nudging James and artfully kicking both Remus and Peter in the shins, earning himself several choice curse words. “Minnie is on the prowl.”

Remus followed his line of sight to see that Professor McGonagall had indeed moved from her usual seat at the staff table to walk along the Gryffindor table, handing something out to students as she passed by. At that precise moment she was only a few seats down from them, chatting animatedly to Lily Evans.

James glanced up, squinting at the pieces of parchment in her hand. “It’ll be the timetables. I swear to Merlin, if we have Potions with the Slytherins first thing on a Monday again, I’ll throw myself into the lake.”

“You think the Giant Squid would let a greasy git like you into his lake?” said Sirius, grinning. “He’d throw you back onto the lawn before you could say  _quidditch_.”

“Oh good,” said a dry, female voice from behind them with a thick Scottish accent. “You four.”

Sirius quickly swallowed what he had been drinking in order to look up and shoot her a winning smile. “Good morning, Minnie – how are you this fine day?”

McGonagall did not smile. “For the last time, Mr Black, it’s Professor McGonagall to you – or do I need to remind you of just how gruelling counting matches for my first-year lessons can be?”

Sirius visibly recoiled at the memory of last year’s detention. “No, no, no, you’re quite alright on that one professor.”

“Good. Mr Lupin,” she said, turning to Sirius’ friend, her tone becoming audibly brighter. “Your timetable.”

“Thank you, professor,” he replied politely, turning it over and quickly scanning it. He had got the subjects he wanted – Arithmancy, Runes and Divination. He sighed inwardly at the latter, wondering how he had allowed his friends to convince him to join them in what he considered an utterly pointless lesson.

“Mr Potter –” She paused abruptly on seeing James’ face. “Mr Potter, what in Godric’s name have you done to your hair?”

James groaned. “Nothing, Minnie – I mean, professor,” he corrected himself immediately upon seeing her glower. “It was Marlene. She hexed me on the train, and I can’t fix it for the life of me.”

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow and turned back towards Lily and Marlene, who were giggling behind her. “Miss McKinnon, is this true?”

Marlene smiled guiltily. “If it helps, he really did deserve it, professor.”

“It does not,” McGonagall replied, “though it is noted. Mr Potter, Miss McKinnon, you can both see me in my office this evening for what I can only hope is the last detention I need to give you this year.”

“But professor, I didn’t do anything!”

“On the contrary, Mr Potter, you should have gone straight to either myself or Madam Pomfrey to have your hair transfigured back to normal – as you are well aware, unnatural hair colours are strictly prohibited at Hogwarts. I expect you to sort it straight away.”

“But it happened on the train!”

“Irrelevant, Miss McKinnon – the Hogwarts Express, as its very name should tell you, still counts as Hogwarts property.”

“But professor, it’s quidditch trials this evening!”

“Which should last an hour at most – and I shall expect to see both you and Miss McKinnon there, on an unrelated note. Goodness knows Gryffindor needs all the luck it can get now that the Prewetts have left. The detention will take place immediately afterwards.”

James opened his mouth to argue again, but Peter kicked him under the table before he could get himself in any more trouble. “He’ll be there, professor.”

The corner of McGonagall’s lips turned up in amusement. “I should hope so, Mr Pettigrew. Here is your timetable – good gracious, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, nothing professor – just slipped, is all.”

Professor McGonagall frowned. “Yes, well. Perhaps a trip to the hospital wing would be a good idea for you too – you can accompany Mr Potter. And sooner rather than later, boys.”

As their head of house moved on, the four boys leant closer together over the table so that the tops of their heads were almost touching. They each laid out their timetable in between the plates and goblets for comparison.

“Aw, nice, we’re all in the same Divination class!” Sirius said giddily. “First thing this morning!”

Remus groaned. “I can’t believe you roped me into that.”

“Hush you, you’ll enjoy it. We all in the same class for Care of Magical Creatures, James?”

“Yup, looks like it! Professor Kettleburn’s a right laugh, it’ll be great.”

“And look Pete,” said Remus kindly, nudging his friend gently to grab his attention. “We’re in the same Ancient Runes class.”

Remus couldn’t help but spare a glance over to the Slytherin table whilst his friends continued chatting, where he could see Rose accepting her own timetable from Slughorn with a kind smile. Her red curls fell over her face as she bent her head over the parchment, scanning it quickly, and then looked up to grin at her friend – the Malfoy girl with the platinum blonde hair. He couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but he felt a goofy smile cover his face at the sight of her giggling.

“EARTH TO REMUS.”

Remus jumped as Sirius kicked him in the shin yet again. “For Merlin’s sake, Sirius, will you cut that out!”

“I will, when you stop zoning out in the middle of conversations!”

“Sorry that not everything you say is fascinating to me.”

“Concentrate, Remus, this is important, James is about to make a fool of himself.”

Sirius was not wrong. James was sitting up straight in his seat and peering over to where Lily and Marlene were sat, wearing a stupidly big smirk.

“Oy, Evans!”

Lily didn’t even look around at the sound, though she did roll her eyes. “What do you want, Potter?”

“I hear through the grapevine that you’re taking Care of Magical Creatures,” he said, ruffling his emerald green hair and wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Lily chewed her mouthful of egg thoughtfully before swallowing and responding: “Yes – I’m sure Professor Kettleburn will want us to study you closely – after all, it’s not often students would get the opportunity to come face to face with a real-life troll.”

James’ face instantly fell, and his friends’ sniggers did not appear to help. In fact, he remained in a sour mood all the way up to the North Tower, where their first Divination lesson was taking place.

“Oh, come on James,” Sirius groaned as they approached the ladder which would lead them to the classroom. “So Evans insulted your character. What else is new?”

“Not helping, Sirius,” Remus muttered as James scowled even more ferociously and began climbing the ladder.

Peter bit his lip as their friend disappeared through the trapdoor. “Do you think we should try and help?”

Sirius shook his head. “Nah Pete, he’ll be alright. Just pretend like it didn’t happen, and he’ll get over it soon enough.”

“I hate to agree with Sirius, but he’s right,” said Remus. “Better to let it lie.”

“Agree with me?” Sirius replied in mock horror as he too began his ascension into the Divination classroom. “The nerve.”

He winked at Remus cheekily before clambering through the trapdoor himself, causing Remus to sigh. “After you, Peter,” he said, gesturing that the smallest boy should go first. Peter dutifully did so, scampering up the ladder with surprising dexterity and speed until Remus was the only one left still in the corridor. He approached the ladder rather cautiously – it looked fairly flimsy – before beginning to climb. The sight he was greeted with when he finally poked his head through the trapdoor was in no way what he had been expecting.

The Divination classroom looked like his nana’s sitting room – lots of poufs and saggy armchairs in various shades of red and pink, and a dresser in the corner filled with ornate china teacups and teapots. On the other side of the round room were shelves covered in varying sized crystal balls. The room was uncomfortably dark, Remus presumed because the windows had all been shrouded in heavy cloth curtains, and the air was strangely thick, filled with dust. A strong sense of incense burned Remus’ nostrils as he got to his feet and made his way to where his three friends were waving at him intently.

Well, Peter and Sirius were waving. James was still sulking, head in his hand.

“What on earth is going on here?” Remus whispered, unsure whether he should speak too loudly. The other Gryffindors seemed to think similarly, as the gently murmuring around the room suggested.

“I don’t know, but I’m having a hard time staying awake,” muttered Sirius, rubbing his temples. “This incense is getting to me… honestly, this professor better be hot, otherwise I really will fall asleep.”

Just as Sirius finished speaking and Remus sat down on the plush armchair they had saved for him, the professor appeared, as though summoned, from a shadowy doorway behind them. She was tall and thin, with wild hair and glasses that enlarged her eyes to the point that they became disconcerting to look at. She had several shawls draped over her shoulders, held together with a large brooch in the design of the evil eye. Sirius groaned.

“Never mind. Wake me when it’s over.”

***

“Do you have…  _any_  idea what is going on?”

Leah gave her friend a disparaging look as she flicked to the correct page in her textbook. “It’s Muggle Studies, Rose – it’s not exactly hard.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but this bilo is driving me mad…”

“It’s called a  _biro_ , and it’s not difficult to use. Just write as you normally would with a quill. In fact, it should be way easier.”

“The pressure is all wrong – there’s not enough friction – look what it’s doing to my handwriting.”

“The whole point of Muggle Studies is to challenge your world view point, or have you forgotten?”

“I’m just saying, I wish quills weren’t banned in this class.”

Leah snorted, taking her own biro in hand and using it to point out a passage in the textbook. “Shut up and answer the question.”

Rose leaned forward in her seat, a tendril of red hair falling into her face. “Hmm…  _What is electricity?_ ”

She sat thoughtfully in her seat for a moment, chewing on the end of her pen. It wasn’t as satisfying as chewing on the end of a feather, she concluded.

“What  _is_  electricity?”

“You’re absolutely useless,” Leah drawled, rolling her eyes. “Do they teach you nothing in wizard primary school?”

Rose frowned. “Primary school?”

“It’s a school that children go to from the ages of four to eleven – you know what, never mind.” She cleared her throat. “ _Electricity is a fundamental form of energy observable in positive and negative forms that occurs naturally (as in lightning) or is produced (as in a generator) and that is expressed in terms of the movement and interaction of[electrons](https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/electrons)._ ”

“…Was that a dictionary worthy definition?”

Leah shrugged. “I didn’t have many friends before Hogwarts. Still don’t really.”

Rose ignored the comment at the end because it made her uncomfortable. “So you chose to memorise dictionary entries?”

“It was either that or help dad with the shop, and honestly anything was better that colour coding books.”

“Excuse me,” came a different voice suddenly – Professor Barnes seemed to have noticed them. “Is this a lesson or a lunch break? Get back to work please.”

Lunch couldn’t come soon enough for Rose, who found Muggle Studies decidedly more challenging than any of her other lessons, and a terrible way to start third year. Defence Against the Dark Arts was decidedly more interesting, but still, Rose found it difficult to concentrate. She was restless, distracted, and quite frankly driving her friends up the wall – and it only reached its peak after lunch.

“Galloping Gargoyles, Rose, what in Salazar’s name is going on with you today?” spat Delilah eventually, unable to contain her annoyance any longer. She had a flobberworm in one hand and was squeezing it much too tightly in her anger, causing the poor thing to writhe quite unhappily. Yelena, who had been watching with disdain, reached forward and gently took hold of the flobberworm, prying Delilah’s fingers off it and returning it to its earthy nest. “You’ve been bouncing off the walls.”

“Sorry,” said Rose absent-mindedly, her own flobberworn quite abandoned on the greenhouse table. She was staring at a gangly, fair-haired boy on the other side of the class who, due to some relentless teasing from his friends, was studiously avoiding her gaze. “I’m just not feeling myself.”

Delilah snorted derisively. “I’ll say. If you carry on like this, I’ll report you to Narcissa. She’s Head Girl, you know…”

“Yes, we’re aware,” drawled Yelena, studiously stuffing the flobberworm with lettuce. “And what exactly are you intending on reporting Rose for? ‘Not being herself’?”

“No!” said Delilah primly. “For pining over a half-blood.”

Rose sucked in her breath at the word, giving Delilah a sharp slap on the arm. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed, blushing furiously. “Don’t you dare say such a thing about him! He’s my friend!”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?”

Yelena’s voice was quiet, but it carried to the other side of the table where Rose was stood nonetheless, even over Delilah’s whimpers as she cradled her arm.

“His mother is a filthy muggle,” she said smoothly, “and his father a traitor. Just like your sister.”

She paused to look up and gage Rose’s reaction. Rose knew she was angling to cause a stir, she did so all the time – usually Delilah might speak up in her defence, but she was still sulking over her arm. Rose’s mouth felt uncomfortable dry as she searched desperately for a retort.

Luckily there was someone else watching her back.

“And just like your cousin, Dolohov,” said Leah loudly from the other end of the table. She was not looking at them, still focused on chopping up lettuce for her partner Dolores, but there was a distinct edge to her voice. “Or am I wrong in thinking that Andromeda Black ran off with a muggle-born over the summer?”

At last she looked up. Grey met olive as the two girls stared each other down. Yelena broke first, face flushed with rage.

“ _Second_  cousin,” she spat. “And watch your mouth, mudblood.”

Silence fell. The girls went back to their work, uneasy, but not before Rose mouthed a quick thank you to Leah. Her friend smiled back, though it was small and strained. Across the room, Sirius Black once again kicked his friend for staring, and once again received a string of expletives in retaliation.

***

“Remus, I declare that move illegal!”

“Do you indeed?” said Remus dryly, continuing ahead anyway. “Check.”

Sirius scowled as he ordered his King to move to safety. “See, this is why no one likes playing chess with you.”

The four boys were sat in their common room. They had claimed the spot in front of the fire, and were busy having a relaxing evening after their first day of classes. Their plans of vengeance for Peter’s nose had been forgotten in favour of boardgames.

“I’ll have you know that my father loves playing chess with me. We’ve been playing chess together since I was old enough to hold the pieces.”

“Aha!” said Sirius, standing up, his finger thrust in Remus’ face. “See that, you two? He’s had coaching! I declare this match unfair.”

“Sit down, Sirius,” drawled James, his attention diverted from his own game of Exploding Snap. Peter took advantage of this and threw down a matching card, causing the whole deck to explode. Cards flew everywhere. “Bollocks.”

“I win,” said Peter happily, collecting up the cards.

“That doesn’t count – I was distracted! Tell him, Sirius.”

Sirius, who was sat down again, crossed his arms and stuck his nose up in the air. “Nope. You didn’t back me up, I’m not going to back you up. That’s just how it works.”

James rolled his eyes. “You’re an arse.”

“A sexy arse.”

“That’s not where I was going.”

“Aha! Check mate,” said Remus proudly, and not without a hint of smugness. Sirius growled in annoyance, but it was all for show – he enjoyed seeing the look of triumph in Remus’ eyes. Remus so rarely showed off, he deserved the opportunity every now and again.

“Alright, alright, I admit defeat.”

Peter chuckled as he picked up the last card and carefully put the pack away in its tin. “Better luck next time, Sirius.”

Sirius harrumphed, and began to set up the chess set again, despite Remus’ groans. “This time, I win, Lupin! Or I’m never playing this game with you again.”

“Hey guys,” said Remus, a look of faint concern on his face. He was chewing his bottom lip, suddenly cautious. “What do you think of Rose?”

“Rose… Rose…” said Sirius, an over-the-top look of confusing plastering his delicate features. “Now who on earth could that be?”

“Ack, leave him alone Sirius,” said James. “Our boy has a crush at last.”

“I do not have a crush!” he insisted, though he couldn’t quite make eye contact with the other boys.

“She’s nice,” said Peter quietly, causing the other boys to look up. “Kind.”

A small pause followed. “Yeah,” added James eventually, a small smile playing on his lips. “Despite being a Slytherin.”

Remus, who had been staring furiously at his chess pieces, felt a rush of pride.

Sirius smirked. “Yeah, and  _super_  attractive. Like, I know you love Evans James, but Prewett is incredibly good-looking. In that kind of homely way. Honestly, mate, if you don’t make a move soon, I might have to – oh for Merlin’s sake!”

It was Remus’ turn to smirk. “Check.”

“How is that even possible so quickly?!”

Sirius grumbled something under his breath about good for nothing swat, but his grin really undermined the harshness behind his words.

***

“Leah? Are you still awake?”

Soft snores were coming from the bed to Rose’s right – Delilah. Yelena was out somewhere in the dungeons, probably with Rosier. Delores might have been listening, but Rose didn’t really care what she thought about the situation.

For a moment she thought Leah might really have been asleep, but then –

“Yes.”

Rose let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

“Leah, you can’t keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

Rose bit her lip. “What you did in Care of Magical Creatures earlier. Putting yourself in the line of fire like that. You have to be careful. More careful than me.”

A pause. “Why?”

“Because you’re a –”

Another pause. “A mudblood.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Leah, just –”

“Goodnight Prewett.”

She wanted to argue, but it seemed fruitless. Instead, she rolled over, buried her head in the duvet, and fell into a restless sleep.

That night, for the first night in years, she dreamt of her mother.

 

***** _Author's Note_ *****

**Hey there! Sorry it's been such a long time... enjoy this chapter nonetheless! LoonyLoopyLuna xxx**

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes the best endings start with bad beginnings.  
> The Characters of Rose Prewett and her children, Leah Leibowitz, Yelena Dolohov, and Delilah Malfoy belong to me.  
> Everything else belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling.  
> Please heart and comment if you enjoy! :D


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